


Are You Death or Paradise?

by WithloveJarell



Category: All Dogs Go to Heaven (Movies), Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Angel/Demon Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Forbidden Love, Multi, Other, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23783545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithloveJarell/pseuds/WithloveJarell
Summary: A Guardian Angel pulled from Heaven's hold is a hard secret to maintain in Hell. Especially if they are the key ingredient for the creation of a new weapon. One that can be the catalyst for something far more catastrophic than the biggest of turf wars.Amongst a sea of bounties, trust is the only thing that can save you and take you back to Heaven. Trust within the Hazbin residents. And yet, you soon begin to worry. Love can correlate with trust. At least, with the Radio Demon, that is.All you know is that there is no time to die.
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader, Charlie Magne/Vaggie, Lucifer Magne/Reader
Comments: 118
Kudos: 458





	1. Chapter 1

You wake in stages. Seeing red. Splotched across the sky like dried blood. Your back is sore, the exposed skin of your shoulders rubbing against warm concrete. You smell a slight stench of smoke entangled with the air, not at all encouraging your sharp headache to fade.

Amongst these awakening senses, the most significant comes with your hearing.

"-ut the fuck up, Moxxie." 

"DON'T TELL ME TO SHUT UP! DON'T YOU SEE?! WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE BECAUSE OF YOU-"

"A-Alright everybody, this might look bad, but hey! This could help business! This shit is, what, half bird half meat? Plenty of cannibals around here who'll give us a-a fuck ton for-"

" **AN ANGEL! IT'S A FUCKING ANGEL! NOT ANOTHER GODDAMN SHIT KID THAT WE DRAGGED WITH US TO HELL, SIR!** "

"Calm the fuck down, Baby Dick, you want everyone to find out?!"

"GO EAT YOUR OWN SHIT, LOONA-"

"ALRIGHT YOU LITTLE BITC-"

"Guys, sshhh! Look, it's awake!"

The resounding silence feels violently uncomfortable as you're left to straighten out your blurry vision.

The demon's shadows encompass your figure, and what was once a vision of kaleidoscope begins to piece together as their faces gain greater detail.

And what details there is. The sight of a stark white wolf with three imps is certainly the way to snap out of near disorientation. Noticing their weapons pointing towards your every move, you decide to stay sitting up, leaning on your hands.

"So uh," the demon with the longest of horns breaks the tense silence, rifle circling your face. "The fuck you waiting for?" 

The claw curling around the trigger doesn't scare you. There is no way way they can kill you (you suppose), but one shot to the face can leave you unconcious enough for them to do anything.

The trepidation twisting in your stomach comes back. Coiling up your throat. Squeezing. You're not afraid. 

Demons. Small though they were, you knew you had to trot carefully with them. Prejudice will never be a trait you would ever want to associate with, but with the nature surrounding their environment, the dexterity of morals are questionable. Survival is hard to accomplish in this place, especially to those forsaken from hope.

You don't have enough time to recollect your memories. Not with weapons aiming right at your face and wings.

"What's your deal?" The wolf repeats the question, milk and crimson glare burning through you.

"...?" 

With no answer from you, it seems to rile them up even more. You needed to let them know you weren't a threat. Far from it, actually.

"I-"

The spear from one of the imps nearly grazes your cheek before the female imp stops him.

"Moxxie!" She scolds, but the tone comes out more soft than stern. Comforting, in a way.

" 'least we know these things do talk. . ." The wolf narrows her brows.

You push your bangs out of your face, fingers dragging over rosy cheeks. You try to keep your cyan gaze on them, worried they might strike if you look at something else.

"I won't harm anyone. I was not made to fight." You speak truthfully. You know demons like these, so much like incubi, smell lies. Perhaps not literally, but demons sense out the most rotten of truths. Like a worm inside a deceivingly perfect apple. You continue. "But if you give me a reason to, I will defend myself."

The small imp, Moxxie, sneers. "And yet you're here. For what other reason? Is killing us all once every year not enough? The extermination ended hours ago. Why are you still here?"

"I'm not an exterminator."

The taller imp clicks his tongue.

"Obviously. Never seen one of you motherfuckers actually have a face and get blasted over to the next building. Look at my damn windows! That shit is gonna kill business!"

You swivel your head to look at said windows, now completely devoid of any glass that couldn't be salvaged together with a bit of glue (The thought leaning more towards Moxxie's feeble attempts at saving company money.) Though there is a huge gaping hole that was once a part of the cieling, you guess he doesn't have much care for that other than what you've done.

"I'm so sorry." You whisper, and truly mean it. It was no surprise that these demons saw you as a threat, right after extermination, and you come crashing through their shelter like a bat out of. . .hell.

Hell. You were in Hell. Somehow the thought hadn't sunken into your head yet. It was there but you weren't focusing on it.

"-ave to shake my ass with bird seed on it for the extra money from that Stolas motherfucker- wait- what?! The fuck did you say?"

"I'm," you start, still trying to grasp onto the fact that this wasn't a fever dream. "I'm sorry?"

The imp's dumbfounded expression would have amused you if you weren't so confused.

"So you're sorry. . .and you're not going to kill us? Well the fuck are-"

A pained groan cuts through his words and everyone's attention lies on the female imp, who's holding on to her abdomen with her free hand. You can't imagine how strong her pain tolerance can be, judging on the black blood gushing between the creases of her fingers.

"MILLIE?!" Moxxie cries, dropping his spear to come to her aid.

Not knowing where to touch first. Her face, her arms, her hand grasping onto her wound.

"Shit. . ." Loona breathes, stony look wiped from her face.

"LOONA GET THE FIRST AID KIT." The tall imp orders, the wolf surprisingly following his command with shaking knees. 

All have forgotten about the Angel in the room.

Moxxie is in a frenzy, comforting his wife the best he can despite the fresh wound, crackling with energy only a Holy Weapon can leave behind.

No demon can survive a cut like this. The tissue will refuse to ever grow back, and so the blood will refuse to ever stay in. It is futile, but their desperate attempts cloud them.

The female imp sits on a pillowed chair, moaning and crying, not able to focus on her husband's sweet comforting tone as everyone is running around.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK,-" Blitzo cries, looking through the pages of a thick book filled to the brim with rituals.

The teenage wolf comes back, grasping on to a plastic box.

"Blitzo. . ." She shares a look with him, reality slithering in and wrapping around them, cold and slimy inside their chests.

Moxxie, however, hasn't let it.

"It's gonna be okay, okay Millie? The baby- The baby's fine just keep breathing with me come on-"

You hold your breath. They know it's too late. They can't do anything.

But you can.

"Please," you stand up, wings dragging over the floor. "Let me help. I can-"

This seems to be the wrong move, the teenage wolf thundering towards you. 

"WHAT? HOW CAN YOU HELP? YOUR KIND AR ETHE ONES THAT DID THIS-"

"Please! I would never hurt someone! I am not an exterminator. I can help her-"

She shoves you closer to the gaping window, edging in near the shattered glass on the floor.

" **Fuck no**. Get the fuck away from her."

"I'm the only one who can help. I can heal! Please, she'll die-"

"FUCK YO-"

"LOONA!" Blitzo shouts, stopping the wolf from pushing you 8 floors down the building. "Let her! She's the only chance we have."

"HELL NO-"

"Please. . ." Moxxie's whisper silences the room, and everyone averts their attention, over to his rapidly paling pregnant wife. Bleeding to death on the wooden floor, staining everything black. 

" ** _Please_** just save her."

His eyes beg of you, face anguished and desperate.

You look at the growling wolf in front of you, trying to convey reassurance.

" _Trust me_."

Either from your words, Moxxie's begging, Millie's progressively loud cries, maybe even Blitzo's cooes for her to calm down, she relents and steps aside not before hissing a warning, daring you to try and harm the small little imp.

Rushing to the couple, you slide and drop to your knees, holding Moxxie's gaze as you press your hand to where his own is, clutching his wife and the wound. 

"They'll both be okay." You reassure him. The imp can only nod, still struggling through his tears as he nears a panic attack.

You look at your palms, willing them to glow and think of your healing prayers, hoping you have enough energy to close the wound and help the baby and her. With fully glowing wings, you're happy with the newfound hope that you can help her.

It's draining, like your life is being sucked out of you, bones feeling heavier as the wound starts closing up and Millie stops crying, reverting to winces.

"Holy shit it's actually working..." someone says.

You know you're done when Moxxie exclaims something happily. Something. Something. You don't know what something does or what someone is saying. It's too exhausting to focus on anything now. 

Feeling your feathers ruffle and shudder from a distant breeze, you finally fall.

....

The singular white feather from the angel's wings flies and curls through the copper smelling air, weaving through the throng of dead bodies and broken buildings. 

The wind doesn't stop. 

Until it falls under someone's foot. 

Gray clawed fingers delicately pick up the pure white feather, a fanged grin splitting across the demon's face. 


	2. i should have known

Waking up twice in Hell can leave anyone with some sort of trauma, but grogginess is a better experience than temporary amnesia from a knock out. There is no time to hyperventilate.

Your little group of demons were thoughtful enough to drape a blanket over you, and you tried not to be so surprised by it. These were still living- or well- sentient beings, and despite the question if whether or not they lacked any soul, they still loved. Still felt. 

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing that at least you were still in the same room as before. The office was tidied up to the best of it's ability, rid of blocks of concrete and shattered glass littering the floor. The slight stench of chemical reeks from the floor, where pools of blood had once sunken in to the creases of wood.

Seeing Blitzo and Loona slide the shutters up across the room, you decide now is a better time to try and stand. With quaking legs, you manage to stand, leaning on the wall, before an explosive boom outsides nearly rattles the entire building.

Your face nearly met imminent damage, had it not been for the pair of small red hands bracing your arms.

Moxxie looks a bit disgruntled trying to lean you against the wall again, his form being much smaller than your own. Your wings added more weight to your drowsy balance. You hadn't noticed, but now without any life threatening crisis in the way, you were able to observe how much taller you were than the imps, taller than Blitzo. Perhaps imps were a bit smaller in size than regular demons.

Nonethless, you nod at him. "Thank you. . ." 

Moxxie's face is a mix between wanting to smile and yet remaining neutral. "Yeah. Though I should thank you. What you did. . .if it weren't for you. . ."

The mere mention of it seems to make him visibly anxious, but you smile slightly to let him know that you understood. At least you didn't have to ask if Millie and the baby were okay now.

"Of course." The crackling outside continues. If they weren't moving about in a panic, you suppose everything was okay now. 

Your legs seem to agree with moving now, and despite the dizziness looming in your head, it's safe enough for you to walk on your own now. Slowly and steadily. 

With wings draging behind you, Moxxie and you reach the windows.

"What is that noise?" You ask the group.

"Fireworks." Loona replies, just as another set rockets off into the sky, colors sizzling in the blood red air. "The Princess sounds them off after extermination is over. Let's everyone know it's safe to step outside now." There's a sneer in her tone, like she resents the idea.

"I like 'em. Reminds me of when I used to perform." Blitzo sighs dreamily. You see Moxxie roll his eyes from the corner of your eyes and Loona give him a perplexed look, you yourself wanting to laugh a bit.

Millie bounces up to her husband, placing a hand on his back. She looks at you with a genuine smile, rubbing her stomache. While she doesn't have much of a belly yet, you're able to tell it's going to get there soon.

"Thank you. I can't express how grateful we are, really." She holds her husband's hand. You've always wondered why Heaven would do such a thing to harm creatures like these. "Oh! And sorry about almost killing you! Apparently that's our fault!"

You tilt your head in confusion.

" 'Your fault?' " You say softly, wanting them to elaborate.

"Damn it, Millie! Was her keeping your fetus alive pissing you off? NOW she might kill us." Blitzo groans, face palming.

Moxxie throws him a glare. "Actually, _you're_ the one to blame, Sir! You literally landed on the page that dragged her here!" He points at you. He motions towards the thick book Blitzo had been skimming through when the baby fiasco happened.

Page? You couldn't have been more confused than ever.

Noticing how puzzled you were, Millie saves you from asking the question.

"The Extermination started far more earlier than we would have liked. Me and Moxxie were barely able to make it to the office, especially from the hit I faced. We all didn't have enough prepared to hide down in the bunker we have, and there were a large number of Exterminators on the first few floors. The ancient book was the only chance at survival we had. So we called on a guarding ritual. Your barrier was enough to block out entrance for the exterminators."

Blitzo coughs, adding "Andsome dumbassdidn'treadthatitsaid 'Guardiancalling'ritual. MOXXIE."

Any other argument they make passes through your other ear, too deaf with shock to pay attention anymore.

A heat of anger wants to singe through your throat and express it verbally, but. . .

Guardian. You were a Guardian Angel. Yes. Were these demons truly to blame, if their intentions weren't so malicious but out of fear for their lives? Death from an exterminator is the end to any Demon. Regeneration means nothing anymore. After a death from a Holy Weapon, there is nothingness. This was your purpose. 

Perhaps not used in the proper context. Or for the proper beings.

But you can't judge. Who are you to judge?

God? No.

"I'm a Guardian Angel." You state. "This is my purpose. Though a warning would have been nice." You say, and really, you don't know if you meant that as a joke or as a real scold.

The Demons all sport expressions between a mix of surprise and confusion, not entirely ready for your response.

No one says anything for a while, still staring at the fireworks blasting over the city, dangerously close to the laser red pentagon stretched across the sky.

"Listen, Kid, we're real sorry." Blitzo rubs a hand over his forehead, face actually expressing a bit of guilt. "We tried looking over the fucking book, but that shit is missing a shit ton of pages on the Heaven section. I don't know how else we can get you back up there."

Well, that was certainly disheartening. You notice that the fireworks have stopped by now, and look outside at the now bustling land of Hell. There's not much difference from the disastrous state it was in, but it was lively now.

"Loona's been trying to call demons who might know what the hell they're doing with shit like this, but they're either double dead or haven't paid their Hell phone service."

"You've been trying," you sigh, reaching up to grip at the silver chain of your necklace. "I can thank you for that."

Silence hangs in the air again, until Loona curses from where she's thumbing through her phone.

"We better figure out something quick then, Boss." She looks up, an unimpressed flash in her eyes. "Your One Time Bird Dick is paying us a visit tommorow night."

...

Charlie hangs her head slightly, from where she can see a perfect view of her broken kingdom. She runs a hand through her hair, swallowing back her emotions at the smell of demon blood in the air. As thick as the tears blurring her vision.

She wishes she could be numb to this by now. One year after the Hazbin Hotel's opening, and redemption for any demon seemed like the start of a bad joke. 

But her hope still clung to her. She wouldn't stop now. Not when she received the help she was getting from Alastor. If anything, the Hotel wasn't doing horrible. Of course, demons were still wrapping their head around an idea like redemption. To become so much more than the person they could have been.

It started out like a bad Bed n' Breakfast, the patrons taking up the chance for a free room for their first week to their advantage. But with the Radio Demon's influence and power radiating through the air, however, most demons were able to leave the place with a better understanding of themselves and how to look at things with a different perspective. 

The Every Night Group Sessions she had were certainly frustrating, but she couldn't have been happier when she saw her first couple of patrons come back the following week, actually willing to pay. From the idea of redeeming themselves or from excellent Hotel Service, she didn't know. But having regulars was enough for her and her little bit of hope still hanging there.

Yet, was it too much to ask for more?

Her Hotel Staff made things easier to handle. Easier to get through the days. Angel Dust was improving too! It was amazing. There was a major difference from his past actions, where he used to be more sarcastic. Unwilling to genuinely express his feelings that he didn't want to experience directly. The drug withdrawal was no walk in the park. But as the weeks rolled into months, now a year, the Angel Dust she knew now was someone she was extremely happy she had the chance of helping. Like the annoying and overly provavcitive brother she would have loved growing up with.

"Hey," 

The voice startles her out of her stupor, and the Demon Princess collects herself a bit. 

Vaggie rests a hand on her shoulder. "It's over, Hun. Nifty started cleaning up the courtyard. She even threw Angel up from the ground. Was kind of funny seeing him flying in the air. . ." 

Charlie could appreciate her partner's best efforts to lift her up from the heavy sting of the atmosphere. Despite the cries in the air for the newly fallen. Even if there was nothing she could say that could comfort the Princess on this reoccurring tragedy.

Charlie stretches her best smile and tucks a gold curl behind her ear.

"Yeah! Let's go clean up. Alastor said he would be back tommorow! Hope he's okay. . ."

...

The place you found within this little group of demons made you feel lucky. They'd made it explicitly clear that had it been an Overlord, you might not have faired well. It was fascinating and disturbing all around, learning more about their culture (with the imp's silly antics.)

Heaven forbade you from questioning the Underworld. Dwelling on the topic would you give you strange looks from others, or a strained smile from one of the archs. 

Thinking about the archangels suddenly rose a pit of sorrow you thought you had blocked by now. Countless times you only hoped you could dismiss this feeling so easily. It was crushing and would sometimes leave you empty inside. But who was there left to fool other than Heaven now? 

You were in Hell now. He was here.

You couldn't even cry that day. They hadn't even told you until you had to find out from a random angel. Later from the roaring bolts of lightning striking the sky and splitting the sea.

When Lucifer had fallen. Was pushed by his _own kind_. _**Alone**_.

Michael and Gabriel had held you back from going after him--

" 'Hey Kid, ya' hungry?"

Blitzo waved a donut around your face, sprinkles dusting over your thighs.

You part your lips to decline, appetite gone and replaced with shock, but Blitzo decides for you instead and shoves it in your mouth anyways.

"So we found the perfect idea to get you home, Kid! Hah, I'm so fuckin' smart." Blitzo announces as you place the pastry to the side.

You try not to look excited, and can't help but smile gently. You were glad they wanted to help you, despite their ideas seeming a bit silly (Millie proposed making a huge slingshot that would shoot you into heaven again.) At least they could regard you as less of a threat and more of a lost 'Kid'. Though in angel 'years,' you guess you did look young for one, with the appearance of a 19 year old.

"So! I know just the place to take you!"

Moxxie leans his cheek on a fist from where he sits, clearly emotionally and physically exhausted from today's events and his Boss' energy. "Please, do tell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the positive responses! Comments fuel me.


	3. i'd leave alone

It seems that Hell is a place that never sleeps. In fact, you'd say that it's fully awake during it's darkest hours. 

Moxxie and Millie had kindly offered you to stay at their apartment for a good night's rest, but you had to refuse, knowing that it was probably best you stayed here until morning came again. They needed time for themselves after today's events, and it was easier since Blitzo said you could take the couch in the employee lounge.

After the couple left, Loona bid you and her boss a half hearted goodnight, aggressively invested in her phone.

You peered out the window, throat constricting when you saw the eye-burning white orb across the sky.

Turning back, you look for Blitzo, seeing him straightening out the Employee of the Month frame on the wall with a hum. He had a warm grin on his features, and you knew that despite his melodramatics, he genuinely cared for his employees.

You hated to interrupt him, but you needed to see this.

"Blitzo?"

"Yeah, Kid?"

You grip your necklace with one hand.

"Could you. . .Could you take me to the roof? It'll only be for a moment. I need to see something. . ."

He doesn't seem to mind, perking up.

"Well sure, Kid! Besides, I like looking at the homeless people from up there anyways." He says with a giddy bounce, fetching some binoculars from his desk.

"Right. . ." You respond, giving him a half smile. He had a childlike demeanor, and despite how not innocent it came across, it was somehow contagious.

...

When you see it, you thought it almost cruel. For them to display heaven like that to the demons. Like a moon. So far out of reach and yet a perfect reminder that it will always be there. Still watching even in their afterlife.

You sigh, sitting on an edge, under the star speckled night sky. 

How were you going to get out of here? You still had souls to watch over. To guide to safety. To offer sympathy.

Surely Heaven would have found you missing? And yet Michael and Gabriel were usually so busy, they could only visit their youngest sibling a few days a month.

Somehow, the thought is chilling. You never had much of a connection to any of your kind other than your siblings, always so passionate about your role. You were just a needle in a haystack in heaven. 

"So what else do you do other than stalk people all day, Kid?" Blitzo asks after he's filled with his fair share of entertainment. Coming to your side, he pokes at your wings like a curious child.

You smile tiredly, and decide to amuse him.

"Well, once I bless them, I don't always have to watch over them. I come at their times of greatest need and help them the best I can. Though it seems once they reach adulthood, they seem to want more. They forget how to seperate their wants with their needs. When they stray, though. . .there's nothing I can do for them anymore."

Blitzo regards the information with with a hum.

"Yeah. Humans are little assholes. I was born here in Hell, but I'd have liked having that opportunity to live. Having an angel watch every shit I take." You shake your head with a cuckle. He continues, "Would be nice if all of them were like you, though." 

It caught you off guard. How easily he said it. You felt yourself grow warm, head a bit airy. You always tried your hardest. Tried to see the crack light for those who hid themselves in the dark. To give hope.

"Thank you. . ." You whisper.

The two of you stare at the city of red, glowing with LED lights.

Blitzo isn't done.

"I need you to listen, though, Kid." He looks at you seriously for the first time. You nod slowly.

"The shitty people here aren't as merciful as the shitty people they once were. There's no rules here because you're stuck here forever with the same body. They can regenerate. But you can't." He motions you to look down over to the left, where a couple of demons below search around the perimeter, collecting an abundance of Holy Spears left behind in the wreckage of bodies.

"This blackmarket they got going on? If they know that there's an actual fucking angel here. . .Kid, I don't even want to know what they'll do. The Overlords here have been cooking something up to take over this place for ages. They'll do anything to get their hands on you.

A friend of mine in the hotel says that the Princess ain't so bad. But you can't trust the people down here so easily, okay Kid? Most importantly," he shakes your shoulders rapidly "DON'T fuck with the Radio Demon."

You purse your lips. You don't have time to ask who that even was, mind buzzing with slight anxiety. Blitzo was right. He knew more about this place than you did, being born here. Even so, you tried to lessen his worry. Or warning. 

You liked to think it was the first.

"Thank you, Blitzo. But I'll be alright. Besides, I've watched out for others many times. I think I can take care of myself for a change." You pat his shoulder. 

He didn't look so convinced. And honestly? You weren't so sure yourself.

...

The feather is layed out on the countertop, beautifully white against the stained blood splatters of dull metal. Innocent amongst the drenched scalpels and knives. Experiments came and went, and each variable is to be thrown away for a new one. No matter what- or whom- it may be.

The rubber gloved hands pull out a Holy Spear, gleaming from the only source of light that comes from the dark lab. The red lamp perfectly captures the glint of the blade. One knick could mean a scar forever, if one were lucky.

The blade is readied, placed over the quill.

With precision, the weapon swipes.

A gold light mirrors the mark of the cut afterwards, dimming to normal for a few seconds.

It didn't cut through.

The feather glows, and the Demon cackles, throwing the spear to the side.

He holds the feather up as if it were a treasure, mouth frothing at the soft smell of vanilla wafting from it. A pure smell that no Denizen would ever smell again once entering the pit of Hell.

A real angel feather. Striking silver in the right light.

"Well, little angel. . .you'll be quite useful for my new experiment." The Demon looks down at his blue prints, before dropping the feather into a vat of boiling water. 

He looks back at his test subject, a little purple fish hybrid with hands and legs locked in steel, trembling in fright at the blood soaked Demon wearing a face as a mask. 

"Now, now. Don't worry, my little friend. It won't even hurt."

The feather wilts and curls inside the concoction. 

Yes. It won't hurt if it will kill instantly.

...

Morning comes slowly for you. It's hard to sleep all night. The sun doesn't rise in Hell, so the only way to tell is when the sky brightens up to a pale crimson. 

It doesn't matter either way. You're awake when Blitzo comes in, asking you about his new outfit.

You're happy your powers work here, where they still allow you to clean yourself up, dipping your halo over your body to transform your attire again. 

The employees come at around nine (and Loona walks in late at around eleven without a care in the world). You enjoy their banter. Whether it was friendly or not, you didn't know. 

Millie giggles, running a brush through your long hair. She had bared witness to your struggle with brushing your tangles, offering to do it for you.

"You're so pretty!" She exclaims when she's done, and a flush overcomes your face down to your toes, blood burning underneath your skin. Never faring well with compliments. They weren't something you were used to, when there were far more beautiful souls in Heaven compared to you.

"A-Ah, thank you." You smile crookedly.

"Kid! C'mon, eat your breakfast." Blitzo points over to the bowl on the meeting table. "It's my favorite. Human Eye soup."

You freeze, looking at the bowl and try not to pull a look of horror and disgust.

Blitzo roars with laughter, and Loona even seems to crack a smirk from where she sits. 

Moxxie looks next to slamming his head against the polished table, rubbing his face in irritation. He opts to looking out the window instead.

"Nah, I'm just fuckin' with you. It's cereal."

"S-Sir?"

"God, what now Moxxie? Don't be a little bitch about the joke-"

"Sir, no-"

"-Every damn time!"

"STOLAS IS FUCKING HERE!" The imp points out the window, and everyone goes ramrod straight.

Sure enough, the view from the windows display a limo pulled over on the side of the road, an atrociously tall owl in royal robes stepping out.

"SHIT!" Blitzo shouts. "The fuck is he doing here right now?! Does this asshole not have a GODDAMN CLOCK?"

"Canceling your Dick Apointments didn't help, Boss." Loona huffs, drawing the shades closed. 

Blitzo ignores her in favor of throwing open his drawer, pulling out some sort of spray, spritzing it over the office. 

You sniff the air. Nothing smelled bad?

"What are we going to do? He might smell her or something!" Millie asked. They had told you Overlords had strange ways of knowing something was wrong just by detecting the very atmosphere in the surrounding area. Especially Royals such as this one. "We can't take her outside if he comes up!"

You bite your lip, and before you even have time to ask why your smell mattered so much, Blitzo is pushing you outside of the office with a hyperventilating Moxxie. You hear him telling the other two demons to distract Stolas before heading up the roof, legs burning from having to run up the endless staircase.

The sound of blaring car horns from the morning rush hour is a jarring combination with the whirlwind of emotions you're experiencing.

"SIR! LET ME GO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING-?!" Moxxie shrieks as Blitzo pushes you all closer to the edge.

You try to plant your feet against the ground, but Blitzo makes it harder as he starts pulling you by the hand now. Despite the extreme size difference, the imp has crazy strength.

He stands on the ledge, pulling you over it.

"KID! C'MON! The fuck you got these things for if you don't use them- OH SHIIIIIIIT!"

The three of you tumble down the roof, two imps hanging off of your back. You twist mid air to seperate yourself from the two.

"YOU BIIIIIITCHHHH-" Blitzo yells as the two imps freefall, trying to hold on to nothing.

With bigger space now, you're able to spread out your large wings, diving down to catch the two little demons before they hit the floor.

Moxxie still has his eyes covered as you carry them, peeking in between his fingers in surprise to see that he wasn't a splat on concrete.

"Okay, NOW THAT WAS BADASS!" Blitzo exclaims, completely forgetting his short bout of anger towards you. He whoops at the new heights you take them, Hell nothing but a small circle of land now. You allow yourself to laugh as you fly across the sky, the powerful and strong flapping of your wings cutting through air. There's enough clouds to hide behind, diving down when Blitzo tells you to land on a territory that looks more than destroyed, no demon in sight.

The territory bares no unity. Just broken slabs of wood and concrete. The occasional dried drops of Demon blood.

You set the two imps down gently.

Blitzo cackles at Moxxie's apparent dizziness, knees weak as he tries to keep his balance.

"You got the cloak, Kid?" He turns to you.

You nod, dropping the cyan ring of the halo above your head, your white cloak draping over your wings to cover your whole body. You bend down to Blitzo's level when he reaches up to cover your head with the hood.

"We'll come pick you up as soon as we can. A spider named Angel Dust -yeah, don't fucking look at me like that! Anyways, Angel Dust is a friend of mine. Just tell him Blitzo sent ya'. He won't harm you. I think. Just go straight ahead and you'll see the Hotel." Blitzo shrugged, Moxxie giving him a scalding look.

The other imp fidgets a bit, looking up at you. "Just- keep a low radar, okay? The Overlords like to take patrols around their area for a few days after extermination to check on their businesses. We'll try to visit in two days, at best."

You nod, trying to calm the rapid drumming of your heart, memorizing their advice like a distant prayer.

You hug Blitzo and Moxxie, and your arms almost wrap around yourself from how small they were. 

"Thank you, my friends." You whisper, not sure if your voice could take another octave from fighting back emotion.

Blitzo's tail curls around your form, patting you fondly.

"Don't go dying on me, Kid. You hear? God, it feels like giving away my dog all over again."

You chuckle at his comparison, letting them go.

Moxxie regards you with a wobbly smile. "Be careful." He can only say, patting your arm.

You stand, dusting off the dirt from your knees. Bunching the drawstrings against your neck. You take a few steps forward, following Blitzo's instructions.

You look back, seeing the two imps jump through a small circle made seemingly out of thin air. Possibly one of the many pages Blitzo has shown you from the ancient book that brought you here.

Blitzo gives you a goofy wave, before hopping in. The portal closes up, leaving nothing but dust.

You turn forward again, now truly alone, and continue your journey.

...

"My contract is done."

Angel Dust tries. He's trying and he's trying. It's almost funny. How trying to be a decent person can almost kill you in the process.

He glances at the magenta of the vehicle's carpet, crossing his first pair of arms while playing with his second, fingers running over his gloves.

"Look at me, Angel Baby." The low tenor husks, smooth and raking down to his toes. Angel could only wish his body would ever respond positively to a tone like that, for once.

Fingers dart out and grasp his cheek, the soft hold turning into a hard pinch. Angel grips hard onto the cushion of his seat, prepared for physical backlash.

"You really think," Valentino begins to chuckle, running his hand down the spider's tight waist, over his thighs. "That I give a shit about your contract?"

No. He doesn't. Really, Angel doesn't know how he thought he could get out of a leash as tight as Valentino's. His contract was a joke from the start. The minute he let this Demon touch him, he was already his from the start. 

He swallows back the urge to spit on his pimp's face. Instead, he jerks his face away.

"Oh? Rebellious today, aren't we?" He chuckles.

"I'm not yours anymore." Angel repeats, hands reaching for the door.

He wouldn't die trying, anways.

Valentino makes no move to go after him, reclining on his seat, smirk glinting.

"You'll alway be mine."

Expressing disgust, Angel Dust shakes his head and steps out of the vehicle, slamming the door closed. The Overlord leans his head back, relaxing in the silence and hum of his lights. 

God, he loved that spider. Gave him a real thrill. What made his little star so amazing was that he was no sex doll. He gave it his all.

All of that was only for him to have. 

He pushed the button to the chauffeur's window. 

"Teach him a little lesson. Play with him, if you must."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love to be articulate, hah. Feelings are rather hard to place into words. Most fics I read that do contain the Angel reader are diverse with the way they portray the Angel part with the personality. Mine is meant to convey a gentle one with an equally strong personality. While they seem like a pushover, that can be further from the truth. Also, writing the Helluva group is entertaining.


	4. just goes to show

After Earth, but before Hell, there was Heaven. Where there was no worry over judgement upon life, neither law for living. The sky was the limit only for humans, but angels existed to breach that reality. 

Before, it was only for them.

That had been Lucifer's mentality. 

Humans were far more sinister than the animals their Father created. They extended their hands further beyond the simple cycle of nature they were intended for, leading to their demise against each other. It was frustrating to look at, because such notions were almost an insult to their Father. At least, Lucifer thought so.

No pack would turn their back on their own, for their scent is engraved into their mind. To recognize, to relate to. A pack scent brings familiarity, because all who have it are trusted not to turn on them. 

You never questioned his opinions. Never agreed nor disagreed. And he knew. Such opinions were frowned upon. Purity tarnished by his 'vanity'. But you never saw it that way, because there was no way to look at it. There was no harm behind it, and as a protector, you knew.

He loved you for that. Loved you fiercely like he did anything.

He was beautiful, and he was beautiful with you. Was ever so kind and gentle, in his own positive and pepping energy. Cupping your rosy cheeks and literally taking you under his wing, brushing his hands over the ends of your hair. Caught you for your first flight, when Father was finally done creating one of his most loving creations. Your soul. Where you were so new and innocent to life. Yet, your innocence was what drew him to you.

Never fake like the same faces here in Paradise, and always so doe eyed with curiosity.

Heaven was only a place here with him. 

You loved him. Your heart soared near him, light as the mist of the clouds you were able to stand on. Because of how light and pure your soul was, he would say. His most angelic angel.

And you'd always follow after him, starry eyed at everything he did. Heaven was bland without him, where everyone wore the same face, the same smile, the same everything. But never him. 

You'd never question your devotion to your Father. But You'd follow Lucifer too.

You would never explore how deeply you would have followed Lucifer.

If he'd only let you. . .

You had kicked. Screamed. Heaving against the golden strength of your Brothers. Michael stone faced and Gabriel refusing to meet your eyes, a trace of sorrow marring his features on that storming day.

It hurt. Heart heavy and torn apart, so heavy you couldn't find the emotion to pick your wings up from the floor, hugging onto a cloud. Embracing nothing left.

"He knew you would go after him. . ." Gabriel empathized, "He didn't want you to Fall."

You didn't know what reaction was appropriate for this hurt he caused you. He knew. He knew. 

Could you go after him now? This sudden chance was a trick to a centuries-long torturous question in your mind. Fate was devious to do this to you. 

To think that you had shoved this in the furthest corner of your mind, only for it to resurface again.

Doubt reared it's ugly head as you trekked through the trashed land, over debris and metal. You reached the ends of the land, having to cross the cracked road to cross a couple of alleyways in between buildings. Denizens lurked about here and there, eyeing your cloaked form suspiciously. They thankfully didn't care enough to pay attention, most likely to get back to their regular routines after yesterday's events. You kept your head down, crossing the street after a few reckless drivers zoomed by.

You mulled over your internal war with your old lovesick self. After what had happened to your lost love, you'd focused most of your attention on fulfilling your duties as a guardian, training yourself to not stare too longingly at the children under your care as they grew up to find their own partners. And, if they kept to their fate and your guidance, you would help their children.

An endless cycle. One that you loved, but still found leaving you empty inside. A pit in your chest. And sometimes, you would ask yourself.

Would he still remember you? 

Would he still love-

"WATCH IT!" 

Headlights, eyeburning white and red, flashed over your eyes. Your shoulders and waist are yanked back to the curb of the sidewalk. Your brain tries to adjust to the adrenaline bursting through your system, nerves frayed and vision spinning from your savior's rough pull. You weren't complaining though.

The speeding driver shouts something over his window, angry despite the hypocrisy for insulting your attention span.

"Asshole."

The phrase jump starts your freezing.  
You forget you're not alone, and turn, meeting a magenta bow tie under pink and white flaps.

A spider hybrid? Then again, Loona was a wolf. Hell was quite creative with personas.

"Be grateful I'm trying to be a good person, toots. And before ya' ask, no, I won't sick yer' dick, thank you very-"

You look up from the long and slender figure to meet mismatched eyes staring down at you, words having died off mutually from both sides.

". . .much." The spider trails off.

...

When the molten-hot liquid cools down, they shape into their bullet molds, turning a jet black color.

"You should be thankful, little sinner." The scientist sneers at the shaking test subject. He pulls out the bullets, inspecting them. "I could have carved your face out if I wanted to. But your face is too. . .meh. See, you're going to be the very first who gets to witness this technological advancement."

He wipes his rubbered forearms across his blood drooling mouth, inserting the bullets into a handgun.

"See, Holy spears are nice, yes. Though useless in killing those annoying little Overlords. But wouldn't it be just sublime if we could include them too? These bullets, should they work, will be able to shoot through anything in hell. This angel feather is key for this weapon. Besides," the scientist turns around, aiming at his target. The subject whines and whimpers, struggling against the iron bars wrapped around their limbs. "Spears are so old fashioned."

The gun goes off, screeching at a speed so fast as it cut through air. It pierces through stomach and then through metal with agonized screams shrieking over the whole lab. The bullet smokes, dispersing into nothing but dust and particles.

The scientist speed walks to his fully dead test subject, a gaping hole from the torso to the metal table it was held against. The table was completely singed through, where the scientist could completely see the other side of it. The bullet was only functional once it's hit it's target, it seems. 

He takes off his goggles.

No matter. It worked. 

Sadly, one angel feather only composed 8 bullets. Yet, further investigation said that this was no exterminator's feathers. Where their feathers were dipped in silver Holy water, hardening into armor once breaching Hell's pentagram.

This was no exterminator. For a feather as natural and pure as this. . .

"Angel Hunting, hm? I might have created a new game as well." He grins. "But first,"

He loads the gun again.

"We should test it on our prime targets. After all, an Overlord will be the ultimate test subject."  
...

Angel Dust has seen some shit in his lifetime. His afterlife isn't much better, but it has been quite subdued since he started living with a raging man-hating lesbian, her royal girlfriend, and a deer cannibal with his cute alcoholic cat and a cleaner with severe OCD.

Faces here in Hell are a cruel reminder to life before death. Really, it's hard to stay attractive if your soul revolved around vanity. If you were shot in the eye. If you lost a limb. Self confidence is a masquerade if you want to survive here. Any sign of weakness is an invitation for trouble.

It was rare for a sinner to share human features, if at all. They were the faces of monsters, some more than others. And it made some sense. The amount of sin committed can dehumanize a person. Once you started, you dive deeper and deeper into the void of your sin until you can't recognize yourself anymore.

But when he looks down at the cloaked figure he yanked back from becoming roadkill, his breath leaves his body and he freezes.

Cyan doe eyes look up at him. 

He would have thought that this was a human. This demon showed little, if any, demonizing features. The complete and total opposite.

A sweet face looks back at him. Angel feels the need to almost hide this person, because he knows that without a doubt, should Valentino come across this pretty, angelic face, he would brand her at an instant. 

What act of sin could this girl have possibly committed to land her down here? Maybe wearing too much white. He didn't even know how she wasn't getting dirt on the ends of her cloak.

"Thank you." The young woman responds, voice silver as bells. "You saved me from that vehicle."

The spider crosses his arms. "Er. . .yeah. Yer welcome, toots."

He doesn't have the chance to say anything else, where she widens her eyes looking over his shoulder.

He turns, meeting one of the burly henchmen that most likely belonged to Val. He was a big fella, almost a big ass boulder type of demon. One of Val's favorite guards.

Angel huffed, extremely irritated now at this point. "Look, I'm not goin' back. Tell that asshole that-"

Asshole of the Day no. 3 doesn't get the memo, arms shooting out for the spider and encasing him, biceps like bands of steel. Angel feels like his body is locked in concrete, the crushing hold threatening to squish his body.

"WHAT'S THE BIG FUCKIN' IDEA?! LET ME GO!" Angel Dust shrieks, kicking and struggling. His body is three seconds away from snapping in half, that he almost considers going willingly. 

"Let him go!" Cloaky suddenly calls.

Boulder Bitch disregards her, turning and walking back where Angel came from. Angel Dust peeks over the demon's shoulder, where the Hotel can barely be seen through the end of the alleyways. Maybe if he shouted loud enough they could hear him-?

Cloaky seems to have a different idea, and honestly, Angel Dust couldn't believe he would actually be jaded from the kind of shit that happens here. When she pulls hood down, he expected maybe a pair of ears or some shit that would explain the cloak.

He wasn't expecting there to be nothing at first, until a cyan ring appears out of thin air, floating on top of her head.

". . .the fuck?" 

His sudden pause made Boulder Bitch stop in his tracks, and he stiffens when Cloaky quickly reaches up for the Goddamn halo above her head, throwing it like a fucking shuriken and-

"HOLY SHIT!" He braces himself when the thing flies like a bullet towards them, striking the demon holding him right across the back. The Boulder screams and is thrown forward,grasp loosening.

The spider rolls out of the way to avoid getting squashed, calling out his rifle. It probably wouldn't be of much use, but if he could shoot an eye or both, it would be the perfect advantage to escape.

Boulder Bitch is surprisingly fast, however, and decidedly throws a whole ass chunk of debris towards Cloaky. She see's it coming and crosses her forearms in front of her, and for a moment Angel can't believe this is the same chick that saved him, shouting at her to run.

The debris slams against a golden barrier in front of her, though, and crumbles from the impact. She still stumbles back from the quaking strike that her barrier had suffered from.

Angel takes this moment to shoot at the offending demon, bullets bouncing off the rocky exterior of the guy's body. He curses himself for the terrible idea, jumping back a few steps from the demon's smashes against the pavement, the road cracking and splintering into huge craters. The spider doesn't realize that he has no space left to jump back when his body meets the wall of one of the crumbling buildings in the area.

Boulder Bitch is getting dangerously close, and Angel knows that even if he does slip away, this guy wasn't going to go away anytime soon, especially since they managed to piss him off. The spider looks around for an answer. He looks up above him, smirking when he sees that the building behind him is close to tilting forwards and completely falling. 

It just needed a bit of a push.

"HEY CLOAKY!" He calls out to the angel. She spots him, squinting at his motioning towards the building. She seems to get it, and calls out her halo again, throwing it forward as high as she could with some strength.

Rock Boy stops moving forward, looking up at the flying cyan ring.

It makes a slight clink sound as it bounces off the building and back to its owner.

Nothing happens.

Angel Dust screeches, throwing his head back.  
"DAMN IT!"

The building suddenly shakes, though, and before he could move, a big ass Grand piano slides down from the tall, tilted building and- 

"Get back!" 

He's tackled backwards, golden barrier drawn over them as rubble, cement and an assortment of other objects fall from the sky.

When the ground stops shaking and the barrier is erased, dust invades the atmosphere.

Angel coughs into his fist, shaking out anything that could have dirtied his white pristine fur. He immediately stands up, analyzing the area and bracing himself for anymore suprise attacks.

He snickers when he sees Boulder Bitch's body buried underneath a mountain of concrete and metal, a hand peaking out to confirm so.

Looking around, he scratches his head when he can't find Cloaky. He's almost worried when he can't find her, but stops moving when he spots the white cloak thrown open, angel wings covering the woman's body.

"Cloaky?" He calls out. When he hears no response from the still-as-stone form, he scurries over, frantically fumbling as he tries to figure out what to do. "Shit, shit, shit."

He checks for any serious injuries before even moving her, wondering if he could maybe be able to pick her up. She didn't look heavy, but the giant fucking wings on her back did not look light at all.

He mulls over his options as he lifts her with his three sets of arms, having pulled out his so he could at least secure her. 

Could he take her to the Hotel? 

They needed to get out fast before the News got here to see what the commotion was about. Cloaky's halo and barrier weren't exactly dull in comparison to the dark skies of hell. 

Could they trust her?

The spider looks down at the angel, before making his decision, albeit hesitantly. 

"You betta' not make me regret this, Cloaky. . ."


	5. the blood you bleed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon my absence. I've been busy for some time but for now I think updates should continue normally for now. 
> 
> On a different note, Angel and the reader's relationship will progress into a more sibling like nature. 
> 
> Warnings for the chapter: Use of gun and blood.

The dark shadow paints over the rag doll's form as he enters, spilling in between the black alley.

Velvet had enjoyed humoring the stupid ugly demon until now, whom thought that cornering her was the best course of action.

It'd been a frivolous dance for her, between the crappy old Angel Spear he mostly just kept swinging around and her large needle of a blade. Usually she wouldn't like to dirty her hands, but it's been a while since she posted her last bit of fun on her blog. The grotesque face sewn on the demon was a nice addition. It'd remind all those peasants not to fuck with her, anyways.

"Wow, now I really do feel sorry for you." She snickered, wiping the blood on her needle across the crusting brick wall. "And you say you have a. . .what was it? Meth Lab?"

"Hm, close. I'm a scientist," the scratchy voice of the demon introduces, oddly not offended but the misconception. "And you, you're going to be one of my test subjects!"

Velvet tosses a glossy pigtail behind her shoulder disinterestedly, pulling her phone up. "Fuck off, Baldy." She flips him off. Oh! Voxy had texted her! The asshole usually never texted back. "Now piss off. I've got places to be."

She looks up, lips pulling back in a mocking smirk at the silver barrel of a gun pointing at her. What a waste of space. "You know what? On second thought, I guess maybe I could cut out that disgusting mug of yours and make you a fuck hole for eternity. But then again, who would pay for that-" 

The trigger pulls.

Velvet see's true white light for the first time in her life since she was born with only the scarlet skies of Limbo, blinding and burning in her skull. No time to react. No time to breathe.

Her body is thrown back into a heap, blood splattered and dripping. 

The scientist tucks the weapon in his dirty lab coat, beady black eyes staring. 

.

.

.

.

.

.  
.  
.  
.  
. . . .10. The body grays, and the smell of death coats nearby nostrils.

"Sample space number 2," He grins,

"successful."  
...  
Vaggie holds her breath when the hotel doors are swung open, gritty frustration leaving her body afterwards. The culprit doe the opened door appeared to be Nifty in the tunnel vision stage of her cleaning. She has half a mind to chew her out but decides that calming down the distressed demon princess was more important.

Charlie hides her head in her arms against the bar counter, nails scraping against her scalp.

"Oh Vaggie, where could he be?" She nearly sobs, her hell phone screen automatically sending her to the spider's raunchy voice mail for the twentieth time.

He'd been present yesterday in the Hotel's bunker during and after the extermination, but made haste to his boss after Charlie had sounded off the signal. While choosing not to mention it, they knew he'd gone to talk to Valentino about his contract, having (accidentally?) heard his conversation with Cherri Bomb behind his closed doors. They really hadn't meant to invade his privacy, but the Hotel concluded that most weekends would be holding room checks.

When Vaggie still doesn't know how to answer Charlie's question, she chooses¹ to wrap her arms over her partner's hunched form. The spider might not be her favorite person in the world, but he had become a familiar presence in the Hotel and she wouldn't want anything bad to happen to him. He clearly had a soft spot for Charlie and was decent to everyone else, coming a long ways from how he had initially entered the Hotel.

He helped her ground Charlie when the princess pushed her optimism too far out of their realities, which was actually a huge help, even if he didn't do it knowingly.

The moth demon stares at the entrance of the Hotel, chest palpitating with a creep of concern. It wasn't rare for Angel Dust to be gone from time to time. When they had initially met the spider, they had learned that the first way to effectively get him to trust them was to respect his space, even as a patient.

His unresponsive texts were enough to draw some sort of concern from them, however. Even when he had his pissy fits the dramatic spider (always) made sure to retort to Vaggie's texts, never wanting to be the last one left talking. 

"Al isn't due back until tomorrow, too. . ." Charlie whimpered, lips trembling. The Overlord had stayed true to his promise to make the Hotel presentable and stable. Keeping the few demons that came in and out under control. While it was universally known that the spider and the deer were a far cry from being at least acquaintances, the Overlord could perhaps see how valuable the spider was to the Hotel and Charlie. 

"He would know what to do." The princess twiddled her thumbs.

Vaggie wrinkles her nose at the unintentional jab. Being her partner's right hand woman, it was at least a bit insulting that the Princess was becoming dependent upon her only hope for her dream.

A man no less. Yet also so close to being a monster?

Husk barely spares them any look of sympathy from his spot behind the polished bar, pushing a shot towards the royal before going back to drowning himself under the heavy weight of alcohol.

Ignoring the withering glare thrown his way from the moth demon, he swipes his mouth, tossing the now empty bottle in an overflowing recycling bin the moth insisted (bitched) he use. 

Vaggie scrutinizes the alcoholic, wondering what unimaginable pain the cat had undergone to sink himself so far down the toxicity of the liquid. Perhaps depressive alcoholism is tempting to some more than others when there is no consequence of death. But upon first arriving in this literal hellhole, she was quick to find out that the only shrinking part of one's dignity simmered down to nothing at such self abuse.

A new glass bottle suddenly slams against the wood of the bar when Husk's head shot up, the whiplash of changing emotions startling the two demoness' on the stools.

"What's wrong, Husk?!" Charlie stands up when he shows no response, cat ears standing at full attention. His apparent alarm must be serious, when his arm disappears under the counter-

"SHIT, CHARL-" 

Faces barely scraping past giant wings, he became all but a blur as Vaggie tackled the Princess from where she stood.  
...

"So yeah, Al! Please don't kill her. Or eat her. 'Cause like, she kinda saved my life. Oh! And Charlotte! Your Dad's got some angel blood in him, right?" Angel hoists the white covered body up for the 6th time, thin arms growing tired. "I mean, sure, his kind ain't too fond of him anymore. Kicked him out an' shit- yeah, fuck, no."

The spider slides a gloved hand down his face, grunting when he almost stumbles again.

He looks at the angel (angel. He has a fuckin' angel), pulling the hood over her face again.

"You know, I always imagined angel's lookin' like some super old blonde dudes. Or ya' know, Greek God's or some shit." He says. He doesn't even know why he's talking to the unconscious body, but rambling when nervous is a habit of his he hadn't ever grown out of. "Of course, I wouldn't mind that.

"You look around Molly's age. Though a bit older. Fuckin' reckless like her too, holy shit." 

He distantly wonders, minus the euphoric drug addiction, could his little sister have had the chance to reach Heaven's gates? Would she have deserved it as much as Cloaky here? Mind manipulation shouldn't have become a sin if it tarnished the pure soul first.

The guilt bites him every now and then. Failing to save her from the drug haze. Not being strong enough to disentangle them from their family's web of lies.

The Hotel is in clear view now, one of the only buildings left still standing in pristine condition. He'd heard the Princess chatter on about a barrier that would encircle the perimeter of the Hotel, something that would alert Alastor of any funny business or whatever. He'd only been half listening. It didn't sound very reassuring at the time, especially when he and Vaggie actually agreed on their sentiments for once. But the deer demon hadn't caused any serious trouble, or so Charlie seemed to think. 

Angel however, did find it very troubling if his pet pig was involved, particularly when the spider had found him twice with an apple in his mouth over a bed of lettuce. The glaring red smile from the radio host both made his blood sizzle with anger and nearly piss his pants.

He's about five feet away from the apple-chromatic doors.

The body in his hold stirs suddenly, making his skin crawl for a moment.

"Shit, ya' scared me, Cloaky." He glared, "I still have to figure out how the fuck I'm gonna drag your sorry ass in ther-"

"ANGEL GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THAT THING!"

The hotel doors slam open, the wind escaping his body from a rough tackle. He's ripped apart from Cloaky and thrown a couple of feet away from her.

Her body ungracefully rolls a few feet towards the Hotel doors, where the Princess and the bitchy moth arrive, not sure where to look.

Cloaky's body is concealed by the tangles of her cape, but it doesn't stop Vaggie from quickly growing suspicious, pointing at the body with her spear.

Fuck. It's the only accurate and appropriate term that sums up his thoughts.

He hasn't even stepped foot inside the Hotel and he managed to fuck this up already. He glares at the culprit as best as he could through the scalding scrapes.

"WHAT THE FUCK, HUSK?!" The spider hisses when he finds his voice, as dirt clouds the air from the cat's landing. If he wasn't donning any dirt patches or scratches from the fight before, he definitely fucking was now.


	6. just the blood you owe

Charlie tries to breathe through her nose at the exploding chaos around her. Glancing down at the large, silk white cape tethered around a body. Biting her lip, she reached forward to lift the material, but was immediately yanked back by a scowling Vaggie.

"Don't touch it!" The moth points her spear at the offending stranger. "We don't even know what it is!"

"IT'S A FUCKIN' ANGEL!" Husk supplies at last, far from his normally disgruntled composure. "Stand the FUCK back," he hisses, "I'm about to finish the deed." The cat shoots to the sky, ready to stab his spear into the body.

Charlie feels her stomach drop as soon as Angel Dust picks himself up and starts dashing towards the body as fast as he can.   
She doesn't have time to stop Husk, stop Angel Dust, stop this madness-

"Wait, don't-!"

"WHAT?! CHARLIE-"

She's more or less roughly shoved backwards by her partner until their backs meet the door to the hotel entrance, bracing for the impact.

The sound of the earth shattering boom is frightening, even for her, coupled by the resulting flash of light and wind hitting their bodies. The clash of the spear's blade touching the angel's body is nothing short of the sight of a supernova, an exploding ring of inferno-like light.

Husk and Angel are thrown back from the untouched body just as much as Vaggie and her are pushed against the door, air escaping their throats. The glass rumbles, threatening to shatter, but still once more.

The ringing that ensues in Charlie's ears dim after the dust clears again.

The body remains in place. In one piece.  
...

"Good afternoon! I'm Katie Killjoy-"

"-and I'm Tom Trench! In today's news, Hell recieves a newcomer of an infamous politician's relative! The-"

The office TV is muted, the room filled with an exasperated sigh of relief.

Blitzo tosses the control to a worrisome Moxxie, who fumbles to catch it as it hits his face.

"Sir, the news isn't over. . !"

"Brainiac, if they found out already, that shit would have hit the Breaking News by this point." The taller imp replies.

"That doesn't really explain why Lord Stolas hasn't done his rounds around the rest of the city yet." The other raises a brow, deflecting the eye roll from Loona.

Blitzo throws his head back, "Look, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. The fucker's probably too busy doing it with someone that's not his wife." 

Millie looks over from the windowsills, a hand over her bump. "Do you think she made it, Boss?"

Blitzo exchanges expressions with an unbothered Loona. "Don't know. Loona says Angel Dust hasn't answered yet. But I know he won't do anything to her. Probably."

Moxxie rests unassured in his seat, staring at the devious fake smile of Katie Killjoy looking back at them.

"I hope you're right. . ."  
...

Vaggie remains attentative, guarding the bottom of the stairs with one of her harpoons.

The glass of Husk's beer slamming down on the counter top makes her jump, the weapon pointed forward until she throws a frosty glare at the cat demon.

"That's not gonna fucking kill it, genius." He mutters, going for another swig.

"Well going after an angel with an angel spear is a bit contradicting, isn't it, genius?" She bites back, ignoring Charlie's yip, a reaction the princess would have whenever she felt serious tension rising between one of her spats with a particular arachnid or any kind of conflict.

Husk thrusts his empty bottle backwards, the glass landing in the trash bin with a sharp thud.

"If anything, that shit should have done something on an account that it didn't have angel iron coating it," he hisses. "y'know, the shit that all the exterminators have so we don't fuck them up into pieces. But then again, I don't think you've ever killed an angel. Much less anyone before, little girl. You're all talk and no shit."

"No one's ever killed an angel, so I can say the same for you, Cat." The moth demon growls, hackles raising.

Charlie waves her hands around, sensing another fight brewing, and sets the two with a look.

"You guys, right now we have something better to worry about!"

The group stands at attention when they hear footsteps, relaxing shortly after realizing it was only Angel Dust walking down.

He pauses, narrowing his gaze at the heated stares.

"What?"

Vaggie, ever the graceful one-

" 'WHAT?'" She explodes, grey complexion visibly fiery red that it was almost turning it blue. "YOU RISK ALL OF OUR LIVES AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO ASK THAT?! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU-"

"SHE NEEDED MY HELP! Look, I had-"

"WHAT? YOU 'HAD TO'? YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO DO THIS SHIT THAT ENDS UP FUCKING US OVER! CHARLIE WAS WORRIED AS FUCK. AND I CAN'T BELIEVE WE WERE WORRIED TOO-"

"Let me FUCKING explain then!" The spider gravels, hand tangled in his fur.

Charlie soothes her boiling girlfriend, rubbing her arm gently.

Vaggie pinches her nose to fight back the migraine.

"You get 5 minutes."  
...

When Alastor feels the shift in his barrier, the energy is almost like a hot wire, sparking through his system softly. It sends him into a pause, and he wills his nerves not to shudder.

It's an overdrive for his sensory nerves. Not harmful, but a soft buzz. The magic he'd cast was specific, alerting him only when harmful energy crossed through the barrier.

But the energy was anything but. 

It was pure. 

And his dark magic ate it up. He'd never felt anything so filling. 

He looks up, the practised smile plastered onto his face a far from true depiction of his complexed state. 

He hated not knowing something.

"Vacation time seems to be over." He laments. "Back to work it is. . ."  
...

You hated not knowing something.

You were never quite used to it, always so adjusted to being the ever watchful eye of a human souls. You knew when they needed help most, when they finally think they don't need you, even while unconscious of your guidance.

So when something cold is pressed on your forehead, you jolt forward, your shield naturally turning on as you shuffle your back towards a wall.

Two, little goat demons blink back at you, visibly alarmed, but somehow unperturbed. You admit, it was nice to know that some demon for once didn't think you were out to harm them, but the latter thought was understandable.

They were almost. . .endearingly cute? Having a doll like adorable appearance.

It's tiring though, having to remind yourself that this was Hell. You were in Hell. Blitzo had rooted the thought into your head. Facades were the key of survival here.

So, you try not to overreact, raising a hand in what you hoped was welcoming.

The goat holding the cold handkerchief by its hoof flickered its reptile tongue out, blankly smiling.

You tried to smile back, but end up shrieking a bit when you feel something ice cold seep through the fabric of your long sleeve.

The other twin goat seemed to sneak up on you when you didn't realize it, mutely pressing the glass of cold ice water to grab your attention. Successfully so.

The two goat demons exchange looks and shake amusedly, snickering silently.

"Ah, uh, thank you. . ." You smile wobbly, finally, accepting the drink from the mischievous demons.

You nearly end up choking from how thirsty you were, scaring yourself.

You never needed food. Never needed water. . .

Food existed for mortal angels to enjoy. Entertainment. But a heaven born angel?

What was happening to you?

Grasping for your cape, you find it draped over a corner of the bed you were in, smeared in dirt. You run your fingers through your wings, twitching when you spot something dark in the corner of your eye, thinking nothing of it. You had better things to worry about.

You look around, finding key aspects to what should look like a hotel room.

"Am I. . . Is Angel Dust here?" You ask. You hardly knew each other, but if he was the reason you weren't being tortured tortured by some other demon. . .

You wished Blitzo were still here. It was quite frightening, even for an angel yourself. You knew no one but the imps and maybe these two little goats that wouldn't hurt you. Maybe. . . Maybe Lucifer. . .

A tiny hoof pats the heel of your ankle boot.

You lean forward, shield disappearing.

The goat demon points towards the door, the other pulling your hand.

"You want me to follow you?"

The nod you receive in reply makes you swallow harshly.  
...

"We're going to help her." 

The minute the words left her mouth ten minutes ago, disputes were not held back, torpedoing at full force. But she had stomped her foot. This was her Hotel. She would not be kicked around by her staff too.

The common room had stayed silent since the volcanic argument, everyone lost in their own defensive state, preparing for what was to come.

She caught Vaggie's worried look, nodding her head gently.  
"If what Angel said is true, it'll be okay."

Vaggie looked down, a curtain of silver hair drawing over her eyes. "Charlie, we already let one monster into this Hotel. Will we be okay with the probability of two? And what about Alastor?" She looks up, eyes wide and scared. "What about your father?"

Charlie purses her lips, hands trembling. She can't answer. When she opens her mouth, she still can't.

Not when everyone suddenly spots the figure in white midway down the stair.

The area is suffocating with the loss of air they all seem to not be taking in. Taking in only the white claded figure in the room.

She's ethereal. Doe eyed. With powerful ivory wings, shooting out like rays behind her.  
No human. No monster. No demon.

An angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The meeting is next.


	7. i saw you there

The moth demon points a gleaming dagger over your face, a blazing citrus gaze analyzing you with hostility.

" _Not another step_."

You stop, gripping on to the railing.

The blonde demon jumps up, eyes sparkling. 

"Oh! You can understand us?!" She asks with wonder. It's an innocent question, but you find yourself staring longer than you would have liked at her.

There's a startling resemblance to her wide, sweet eyes and gold sweeping hair, that it makes your chest jumpstart like a thunderbolt against the sky.

The moth demon seems to grow wary of your intense focus on the other girl, so you answer the question when you find your voice.

"Angel ears can decipher every language known to man and God." You nod.

The large winged cat lingering over (what looks like) the bar counter hiccups, nails scratching against the glass of his bottle.  
"So, you here to kill us? Cause I for damn sure tried."

Your wings tense at the confession. You look down, the mandarin collar of your robe torn. The silver cross dangling over the chain of your necklace shines. As it hits the light, a cyan scratch sparkles, disappearing as fast as it came.

A breath of anxiety leaves you, and you glance around. No glass seemed to be shattered and nothing was too disorderly.

"U-Uhm! That was before our friend Angel Dust explained what happened, you see." The blonde demon waved her hands around. 

"Please! Take a seat!"

"Charlie!" The moth demon growls under her breath, visibly against the idea.

The other, Charlie, pins her with a look of desperation.

You sit on the burgundy arm chair closest to you, ignoring the heavy scrutiny that followed your every movement.

...  
"-a warning woulda' been fuckin' stellar, Blitzo."

"You really think I wanted to send my child over there to your whore-ganization?"

"I'm gonna ignore the fact that you called her your child and your pretty funny joke, but here? Blitzo, do you know who fuckin' owns this hotel?!" Angel hisses as he cards his fingers through his fur. He heatedly glances down at the cracked screen of his Hell Phone, as if the Imp could see the glare sent his way.

The Hotel Kitchen was the only sanctuary where he could privately discuss the big ass elephant in the room with his friend, all while making sure the staff wouldn't kill the angel resting in the spare quarters. 

A pot of Gumbo squeals under it's lid, the sound of screeching steam irritating his already ringing ear drums. He pulls off the lid with his other set of arms, tapping his heel anxiously.

"I know, I know." Blitzo picks up again. "But things aren't looking so good over here either. That Stolas fucker hasn't been making his rounds around the rest of the city since the Extermination and from what I'm hearing, neither of the other Overlords are too."

Angel's brain tells him that maybe that piece of information was definitely something to look up on, but the pinch of a migraine is starting to strain his thought process. That --Shit, there's an angel-- and also --Shit, THERE'S AN ANGEL. 

"Look, she won't hurt anyone. The kid is a pure blood. Poor thing doesn't even know what an Overlord is." 

Angel clicks his tongue, a small smirk lingering on his lips.  
"Yeah, I found that out pretty quickly. Bitch can throw hands too."

A growl vibrates through the phone, and the spider pulls his cell phone away from his ear confusedly.

"Well--shit, **damn it** \--Hold him down! Moxxie **fucking--ok** , anyways," The roaring sound of a chainsaw coupled by horrified screechings drowns out Blitzo's animated voice. "Sorry, doing another business deal right now."

Angel Dust feels his eye twitch. Even after being friends for what felt like centuries, the imp was a complex person.

Caring and goofy, followed with extremely raw ethics. But who was he to judge? 

It strikes him suddenly. "Wait, you're still able to cross the human world?! Blitzo, what the **fuck** \--"

"Yeah, don't think I didn't try that already." Blitzo is quick to shut the idea down. "The book is completely stripped of chapters on angel content-- **DAMN IT, NO, NOT THERE** \--" A gush of liquid goes off after the sound of a puncture stabs the air. "Millie, for fucks sake, practice your artery anatomy. Blood on these floors is a **BITCH** to clean off."

Angel feels his stomach drop, looking away from the pot of gumbo steaming next to him before he lost the contents of his lunch.

"We'll take her out of your hands in a couple of days, okay?"

Angel scratches his head.  
"Blitzo, I don-"

A chill creeps up his spine, the skin under his fur running hot with fight or flight. 

The kitchen spills over with a dark shadow.

He looks around.

Shit.  
...

"Sounds like fuggin bullshit to me." Husk remarks a few minutes after your explanation.

"Husk!" Charlie scolds uneasily. She diverts her attention back to you, wrangling her own fingers. "I'm sorry. Well, ah, you see, it's hard to believe that you aren't here to cause harm. Usually Exterminators-"

"-are Angel's?" You finish. Nodding, you tilt your head towards your cross. "I was not created for the end of something else. I am pure blood. The Exterminator's are made up of a significant amount of mortal souls from Heaven. Those who choose to serve cleansing."

"Do you accept it?" Charlie bites the tip of her pointer nail.

You feel conflicted. Something in you always told you about how horribly wrong it was, but the other part of you worried. Did it mean questioning your Father?

"I believe no soul, lost or not, should face travesties undeserved. More than one punishment is abuse." You word carefully.

Charlie clasps her hands together, a soft expression glazing over her eyes.

"You really don't know how to get back home, huh?" She sympathized.

You sigh, exhaustion once again sweeping your bones.  
"My friends, the Imps, are trying to find a method that will function correctly. They felt responsible for the accident."

"Has anyone seen you?" The moth demon, Vaggie, speaks up. She's lost her previous aggressive demeanor, but her tone still holds a commanding maturity.

"No. Only the demon who tried to take Angel."

"Shit." Vaggie hisses. "That might make the Hotel a big red spot if Valentino gets word of this."

You bite your lip, worrying. Would you compromise your own safety over theirs?

"We'll figure something out." Charlie declares, but it seems as if she is trying to convince herself of such a notion.

You don't have time to input, when a crash resounds, followed by an outward curse that comes from the other side of a door by the bar.

No one makes a sound.

Everyone comes to a stand.

  
Charlie gasps, hand slapping over her mouth as she titters backwards and looks at you with horror splintering over her child-like eyes.

" _Fuck_ , Ala-"

" **CLOAKY WATCH O** -"

You're slammed back by the force of a black figure that torpedoes itself from the door and grasps a hold of your throat, pushing you back against the highest point of the wall.

Feet dangling, you kick desperately and heave, hair falling over your face. 

  
There's nothing else to want or need but the ability to BREATHE.

You can't focus on activating your shield, can't focus on anything, with the grasp enclosing your neck.

Your hands come up to instinctively claw at the constricting hold, as it encloses, tighter, TIGHTER, TIGH-

"ALASTOR DON'T HURT HER!"

The minute the grasp is slightly loosened, you make sure it's worth it, crossing your forearms in front of your face to call your shield.

The barrier pushes against the shadow, albeit with more energy than what is usually required. The opposing figure's power is a force to be dangerous reckoned with. So much so, that your arms feel immediately sore at the use of your full energy required, just to push back against the coiling shadows trying to ensnare you into it's hold again.

Dropping from the loose hold, you spread out your wings to land shakily on your feet. Your ankles quiver until they cannot stand. You slide against the wall, hanging your head as you take deep gulps of the air you were rejected from.

"Pardon the lack of introduction, but this fine establishment is only available for demons, you see!"

Staring death in the eye is a perfect phrase for the demon before you. 

His voice matched the grit of a radio microphone, eerily a deep tenor that held no malice to any other.

His eyes, a deep scarlet red, swept over your heaving form with a wide, chilling grin. Rogue bangs fell over them as he leaned down to inspect you closely.

The shadows behind him curl inwards, until he snaps his fingers. They vanish into thin air.

"Alastor, we can explain!"

...

The scientist hisses as he clutches a hand over his wounds, ink black blood trailing over his steps. He curses, stepping back and stumbling into an alley way. 

A black limo flashes by, and the nearest electronic flatscreen and billboards that surround the business area of the city glitch and crackle.

Sirens blast over the land, alerting denizen's of the same sound used merely forty eight hours ago.

The Exterminator Siren.  
...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alastor is intrigued.


	8. too much to bear

"OH THANK GOD, YOU'RE NOT DEAD!" Angel Dust slinks himself out of the busted kitchen door, where the radio demon's shadow had lurked through. Before he could proceed to run after you, the heels of his boots slide backwards and he's being held up by the back of his blazer.

Dual colored eyes snap over to the tall feline holding him over the air with a single arm, the other manning a shot of clear liquid. Vodka or water, he wouldn't even ask.

"What the hell, Husk?!" The spider hisses, squirming in the air.

Husk stares him down with a golden glare, turning to gesture at the far corner of the Hotel.

"You wanna get her **AND** yourself killed too, dumbass? He ain't doing shit to her yet," he said in a low voice. "not with Charlie there."  
...

"A Guardian Angel, you say?" The red demon hums, stance casual and still so very tall as he listen's to Charlie's pleas and hurried explanation.

He is an intimidating presence in the room, of not only physiological traits, but of the transparency of power and crackling aura of chaotic energy. It is not naturally demonic, but it is heavily tangible and visible. It's messily dark. Setting a weight of a ton of boulders over your chest and throat. Pressing over your rising stress.

Your universal tongue is fluent in the most difficult of languages, but the hex that had crashed against your barrier could not be mistaken. It makes your blood freeze and your skin pale.

Black Magic.

Judgement is not your calling. But factually, this energy is known to encompass a person completely of mind and soul. It is draining to the faint of heart, and damning against the eyes of man and the holy.

This man, Alastor, is a mortal.

Or rather, he was. 

But he became something greater than a demon.

To take control of the the sheerest forms of power, the shadow realm at the palm of your hand, is no easy feat.

"...the radio demon." Blitzo's warning echoes in your mind.

You feel your wings tense when his blood red eyes snap over to you. You're a bit shorter than him, taller than Charlie, but his broad shoulders and heavy stare make you feel smaller.

And yet, perhaps the most unsettling thing about this demon is not his power, or his hold over you. No.

It was the smile.

  
His hand shoots out, harshly and suddenly that it makes you flinch.

"Many, many apologies!" He laughs, the smooth tenor of his voice sliding against the radio static. "Please forgive my terrible manners. Why, my mother would be rolling over her dear grave if she were to see such a travesty!" 

You glance down at the large but slender dark gloved hand, before hesitantly shaking it with your own ivory gloved one. 

"The name is Alastor! Infamous Radio Host of the Radio Tower!" He presents with grandiose. 

He doesn't let go of your hand.

His hold is firm and not crushing, but it is in no way comfortable as he keeps on shaking. When he let's go, a staff appears out of thin air on his hands, waved around with grace.

Every step the man takes, both closer and farther from you, leaves the hair on your skin standing at attention. 

It leaves you alert, heart thrumming, veins racing to process the blood that speeding through your body.

Pivoting, Alastor's tilts his head, eyes darting towards your straining passivity.

"I would like to personally welcome you to the Hazbin-"

("Happy!" Someone, Charlie, corrects.)

"-Hotel!" Alastor ignores.

You look around in an attempt to distract your rising anxiety, confirming your earlier suspicions of what exactly this place reminded you of. A Hotel?

Charlie makes it her cue to scuttle closer to you, arms wide open to present the place proudly.

"The Happy Hotel has been my life's working project, and Al happens to help me co-own this place!" She explains. Reaching over, she snatches a paper lying amongst a stack, nearly shoving it in your face. "It's not a normal Hotel, you see!" 

You smile softly and push the paper away from your face, finding her sheepish expression over her own excitement adorable.

It takes you more than three times to read the first paragraph printed over the bright yellow brochure, only to check if what you kept rereading was right and that the last few knockouts hadn't messed you up too bad.

"A. . .A rehabilitation center. . .for demons?" You say out loud, as if asking for any corrections or clarification.

Charlie peeks out from where she stood behind the brochure, cherub face hopeful and waiting. You continue.

". . .to Heaven?" It dawns to you just how idiotic your question sounds when Vaggie speaks up.

"Yes. That's the objective."

Nodding, you look away, regretting the decision as you're now left to process the fact that this. . .radio demon, also runs the Hotel.

Your regrettable action also leaves your head thrumming, as shaking your head was not the correct decision for almost recieving a full blown concussion from the deer demon a couple of feet in front of you. The crater left on the high corner of the wall is left with tiny crumbles rolling down.

Being a pure blood, created in Heaven, granted you advanced strength and fast healing capabilities. However, you were no warrior. Your strength lied in your ability to understand the human mind and the heart, to best lead them in the safest path. You were not made for aggressive action, but resilience.

"Oh gosh! You probably need to sit down, huh?" Charlie piped, ever the sweetheart. She pulls you over to sit down on the plush couch again.

"Thank you. For helping me." You reply gratefully, after a while of shuffling ram rod straight on the seat.

Alastor hums from where he stands, spinning around to face Charlie.

"Charlotte _and company_ , do excuse me." He stalks over the two of you, setting his staff (which you now notice is a microphone) on the ground with a firm thud.

Ash burns in your nose, a ring of sparking embers circling around behind him. He steps back, and the portal swallows him whole. Before he vanishes, a half lidded darkness that falls over his eyes leaves you feeling heavy in your seated position.

You stare at the spot the demon had once stood.

Behind you, something smacks against the ground, followed by a string of mixed curses.

"Finally, fucking Tom Cat let's me go." Angel Dust mumbles under his breath, hands brushing over his blazer. "You good, Cloaky?"

You jump.

It was the first time anyone has ever asked **you** this.  
...

 ** _"...AT THE HAPPY HOTEL!~"_** Charlie finishes the last note, strong and controlled, breathing out.

Tiny pattering sounds clap next to you, your peripheral vision spotting Nifty on the couch next to you, providing a positive audience reaction to the up close performance. 

"The seizure is kicking in." Angel Dust grunts, leaning his head on his hand.

You blink, breath halting before it retrieves. You had originally asked for a clarification of the Hotel, unknowing of the blonde demon's musical talents. 

She had a lovely voice and an even lovelier heart, that it left you in disbelief and curiosity over what this seemingly innocent girl had done to receive an invitation to Hell.

The song's visuals opened up split illusions, a multitude of scenes playing before you. The power of illusion was amongst one of the more rare magic's for a demon to posses.

You're left delirious for a few seconds, from the flashes of neon colors and splashing of violent images and blood popping out, a gigantic domino dice falling over, and demons swinging hatchets left and right.

It's chaos, and a mess of ideas and hopes thrown in together to create such an illusion.

The anticipation and nervousness lined over Charlie's face and smile leaves you unable to really tell her of how far away her dream seems.

"Charlie, I think it's wonderful." You say softly, and a small smile forms on your lips despite how dubious you are.

Every pair of eyes in the room dart over to you. The emotion is versatile, but the most common one is shock.

"Really?" The hope that blooms inside of the younger girl makes you feel guilty over your hesitation.

"Of course." You clasp your hands together, setting them on your lap.

"But?" Vaggie catches on to your hidden skepticism 

"I-. . .it's a generous offer to the lost hope some may have." You start. "But. . .do you truly believe every mortal is redeemable? A sin is versatile. It comes in multiple forms. What of those with blood on their hands? Abuse to their name? 

Asserting dominance with force?"

Charlie nods, fingers smoothing over a lock of gold hair. It's no secret she had thought of her plan too, perhaps far too many times, and is used to the rejection of her idea.

You reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Of course, there are those who are wrongfully placed in an eternity of suffering. It is not easy task. . ." It's a sad attempt of comfort after your previous words, but it makes her head perk up like a fascinated child, and she starts buzzing in her seat.

"Wait, so you're saying. . .for those who are worthy of redemption. . ." She trails off, anticipating your next words.

You gently smile.

". . .it is not impossible."

....

_"Breaking News! Around ten in the morning, Hell authorities were made alert of DISASTROUS wreckage in Lust Town! Various explosions of light have been spotted by denizen's throughout the day, but no correlation to the one responsible was made!_

_However, throughout the course of the day, a shocking discovery has wrecked chaos and fear across the city._

_Rag Doll Overlord, Velvet, has been exterminated. Forty Eight hours after the Extermination!_

_The Extermination Siren was made minutes after her murder to alert Hell City to stay in doors._

_It leaves the only conclusion in the minds of every denizen._

_There is an Angel still in Hell."_

"Fuck." Blitzo mutes the control, mouth dry.


	9. You were my life; but life is far away from fair

_"So the man enjoys the pleasures of passion from another woman that is not his wife. How befitting." Lucifer clicks his tongue in distaste, golden eyes darkening._

_You wonder if it will ever get easier. To guide the path of man and wonder if you've done enough to help them make the right choices for their lives. Their futures._

_One particular boy you recently lost dug the claws of sorrow deeper into your heart. You remembered his first innocent steps into a world so unforgiving, born from a place of poverty as he tried to escape it in order to be something better than to accept what he was given._

_His ambition led him to great success, that his riches began to blind him from what was truly important. Before long, after his betrayal to his matrimony multiple times and the spiralling depths of his own building illness, you had lost him. The same as he had lost his way._

_Lucifer tilts his head slightly to catch your downcast gaze, reaching a hand out to hold your face. His touch is gentle but firm, sparking spine tingling shocks across your system every time. Like yesterday and the day before. Like the last milena and the last forever ago._

_Like tommorow and possibly forever forward._

_"Oh love. Don't feel sorry! Human's are always so fickle with their endless greed and lust. They choose the choice they will most regret in the end." He smiles softly, tracing his thumb over your cheekbones. "You do all that you can. All the you must."_

_You exhale with a heavy heart, nodding. Lucifer was always enigmatic about most subjects, that you couldn't blame him for the passive aggressivene tone he held against the humans. Where he told you that he wasn't pleased of how disappointed and upset they made you (and him) with their more than questionable morals and choices in life._

_Gold emanates from his free hand, and he reaches behind him, pulling out a flurry of flowers before throwing them at you. You shriek into a fit of laughter as the unexpected thick wind of petals blow against your face, as if attacking you._

_"Wild flowers!" He drawls loudly. "Better wipe that frown upside down, My Light."_

_You curl inwards, as the petals start tickling your sides and stomach._

_"I- hahah! L-Lucifer! Okay, Oh-kay! hahaha!" You gasp at last when you feel like you're running out of air._

_Immediately, the flowers and petals swirl back into a pattern of flashing light from his hands, his powers making them retreat. His tangible illusions always left you in wonder, beautiful in ways of matching his charming and equally wacky personality._

_When the magic is no more, he holds out his hand to you, a gentle look taking over his mischievous features. Pulling you to him with a firm tug._

_He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your nose. Your cheek. Your forehead._

_In an amusing matter of time, he's pecking wherever he can on your face, that you begin laughing again at his dramatic smooches._

_You try to escape in the midst of hysteric giggles, an action proved fruitless as he wraps his arms tight around your shoulders, caging you in his strong and cooling hold. He throws himself back, from the dense clouds to the pinking skies, taking you with him._

_You're falling again. You fall with him and for him, holding on tight to him, pressing your face to his chest._

_Keeping your wings tucked in, knowing that this beautiful man will never let you go, as he laughs and finally spreads out his large wings. It has you both lurching up into the heavens, higher than the stars. The same stars that cross behind your eyes as he lands on the mist of clouds once more, dipping you into a searing kiss._

_You open your eyes when he pulls back, but the light behind him loses its rose shade. It darkens, gray and pitch black suddenly._

_"Never lose your smile, My All."_

_He looks down at you with a bittersweet smile of his own, closed mouthed, a distant look in his golden eyes._

_Knowing what was to come._

_The memory of the last time you had ever seen him._

_You hadn't thought twice of the dim tone behind his sweet whisperings._

_It plagues you._  
...

And then, he's staring back at you. You see him, for the first time all over again. For the first time since your gray colored perpective took over you. Since you lost him. Life losing color. Of sounds dimming.

He's here, in front of you.

Except he's not here.

He's staring at you in the painting behind Charlie.

Sweet and kind Charlie, who looks up at you with stars in her eyes.

"I'm the Princess of Hell! Charlotte Magne, heh. But Charlie is way better."

The Princess of Hell.

Daughter of the King of Hell.

_Lucifer Magne_.

Whatever is left of your soul falls.

It falls all over again.

And shatters completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore reading all of your comments! I'm starting to recognize some of you, hahaha. And to any new, welcome as well. Just a short chapter here.


	10. was I stupid? was I reckless?

Your new room is sterilizingly clean, you soon find out. Though perhaps that might have been the work of one tiny obsessively clean little demon looming behind every mess.

Once the door closes, you begin to feel the weight of dread wash over you. The pale pinks and rose reds of the wallpaper blacken the already dimly lit bedroom, matching the atmosphere of your heavy heart.

The tears come, as you drag your feet over to the mattress and sink into the cushion on your side, letting your wings drape over the end.

Despair is too aggravating of a word for your aching sadness. That you lost him the moment he lost his way, just like the innocent souls you watched come and go.

That now, you truly are alone. 

You always were.  
...

" _ **Fuck**_." Blitzo curses. Because shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

"They know. **Oh god.** Oh shit. Ohhh no...." Moxxie begins to hyperventilate, breathing erratically and shortly in no time. Millie rubs his shoulder, focusing on the gruesome details of Katie Killjoy's cynical report.

Loona begins to actively scroll through her phone swiftly, eyes scanning the dark media flashing by the screen.

"They don't know what she even looks like, but apparently they found some fucked up shit in that ragdoll Overlord's body that wasn't an angel spear. So whatever killed her was not a demon OR an Overlord." She rose a brow, glancing up at a pacing Blitzo. "I thought you said she made it to the Hotel without a hitch."

"Apparently one of Valentino's bitches went after angel one and Angel two. But it wasn't her, that's for damn sure. Lust Town is on the other side of the city." The imp hisses, holding his horns tightly. He let's go, exhaling harshly.

  
An assistant reporter takes over the screen, waving over one of the demon's walking about in a seperate part of town, a seedy outdoor club parlor with a herd of bloodied demons. Body parts strung around, chains and weapons strewn across tables dripping with murder.

"You there, sir!" She calls out to a hybrid of some sorts, a beady eyed reptile. He bears intestines necklaces. Blitzo blanche's, irritated at the way killer mortal souls always wanted to parade their victims around as if they were overlord's themselves. 

"What will you do if you see the Angel in Hell?" The reporter asks the reptile, unbothered by the way the demon almost seems to snap his jaws at her approach.

"I'll fucking rip their throat out and hang it's fuckin' wings over my wall, bitch!" He growls into the demoness's microphone. 

A chorus of the lackeys behind him toast to his statement, beginning to chant the many torture options implanted in their mind. They roar, tipping back their heads and swing brothy beer down their throats, before proceeding to nearly bombard the camera with their declarations of hunting. A glass of beer finds it's way slamming into the News camera, cutting out the scene. The screen switches back to Katie and Tom, showcasing their indifference to the violence that progressed rapidly.

Blitzo turns off the TV.  
"The Kid managed to fuck up Valentino's boulder guard hard enough to knock him into a coma."

"So she's good?" Millie perks her head up.

"If he doesn't wake up, yeah." Loona supplies grimly, earning an anxious groan from Moxxie.  
...

It's a small splotch, almost invisible, as it hides under the thicker part of your longest feathers.

But it's no mistake. It's no trick of the mind.

An ink black feather.

Your skin crawls at the sight of it.

How much longer did you have? Or was it too late already?

A knock jostles you back to reality, in the same room with the burnt color of morning flaring through your window.

"Cloaky! Open up!"

You stand up from the bed, fixing any creases you left behind.

"Come in!"

Angel Dust slightly ducks in to avoid hitting the door frame, placing a set of arms on his hips.

"Woah, toots, you look like shit."

You glance at yourself from a nearby mirror, cringing at the crumpled mess and dirt on your pants and boots, to the tears on your robe. Raising your hand out, you dip your halo over you to modify your appearance. A perk that you welcomed gratefully. You only wish it could lift the heaviness of your heart as well.

The spider blinks bemusedly, a slight smirk overtaking his features. "Heh, cheater."

You shrug, letting out a small chuckle yourself.

"I didn't get to thank ya' for saving my ass back then, by the way. Was nice not getting squashed non-sexually for the first time." He waves offhandedly.

You almost choke in your own spit, slightly concerned and majorly confused. "I think you've done more saving for the both of us, really." 

He tilts his head a bit, humming. It looks like he's scrutinizing you, trying to read through you.  
"Are all of you like this?"

"Like what?" 

"Er. . ." He looks up, dual colored eyes pondering. ". . .Nice? Sorry, I just really am having a hard time believing that you're kinda not like the other ones. Y'know, the ones that-" the demon raised a hand, before striking it down in a stabbing motion.

You search for an answer, one that isn't too vague or broad. "Mortal souls in heaven still have much to learn in their own afterlife as well. The soul never stops progressing, especially when struggling with a humble mindset. They are still human. Pure bloods and the Archs are created with their own purpose and are made to understand humans and their flaws."

Angel Dust crosses his arms, pensive but less doubtful now. Hopefully. "Guess Blitzo was right. Ya' kinda are a good cookie. Heard that you basically baptized Millie's brat. That was. . .nice."

"Oh! You're awake!" Charlie's voice pipes up from the door. "I hope you're hungry! We just finished making breakfast."

You don't have the heart to tell her that it was impossible for you to be hungry, choosing to nod instead. She was already risking her very name and life to keep you out of harm's way. It would be rude to turn down food.

The ink colored feather rests in the frontlines of your worries, anyways.

One of them, that is.  
...

There's a story you've heard, heard from the books that parent's would read to their children before bed. Of a human girl named Alice whom falls into a rabbit hole. Into a wonderland of riddling and looping creatures, of whimsical but chaotic tea parties, living about their days with a craze. 

Hell is this. A bloody wonderland. Of mad individuals that are misunderstood too much.

Especially when a tea cup almost slams into your face. Accidentally aimed your way, but you didn't fault Vaggie for it as you sat next to the crude mouthed Angel Dust.

Before you decide to duck your head, the porcelain cup stops midair, a deep red flaring around it like fire. It floats over your head, losing all gravitational pull.

You twist your upper half to look over your seat, anxiety slamming against your chest with the force of a sledgehammer, leaving your nerves to tremble.

The radio demon holds the cup on his palm, oddly delicately as he has no harsh grip around it. He tilts his head downward to your sitting frame, his seven foot height making you feel like a cornered prey.

"Oh Vaggie, dear, do refrain from hurting our guest." He addresses the moth lightly. Despite this, his stare on your slightly uncomfortable expression never leaves. "But, if you're going to hurl something at Angel Dust, at least do so with good aim~" 

"Yeah! _Pendeja~_ " The spider sticks his tongue out at Vaggie, the girl fuming in her seat from across the table. The addition to the Spanish insult did great in adding more salt to her mood, regretting her decision to teach him Spanish cuss if he taught her the Italian equivalency.

You would have let out a chortle at their effort to insult eachother to their very roots. You would have, but you couldn't, finding yourself pushing back further against your seat. Alastor loomed over you to set the tea cup next to your plate.

Your eyes trailed from the still bickering demons, to his pinstriped arm stretching over your face.

"My apologies! These Hazbins are so mediocre in welcoming their guests, dear." He chuckles dryly. The sound bounces off vibratingly, like a sand covered stereo. Your wings slightly shudder. "Would you care for some tea? Most definitively Hell's finest if I do say so myself!"

"Ooh! Yes, try some! It's almost heavenly, heh." Charlie giggles from her seat at the head of the table, albeit a bit nervously. Her attention diverts to the side, eyes widening as Angel Dust picks up a spoon and is ready to hurl it at a heatedly annoyed Vaggie. "Not the tea spoons. . .!"

  
You give the Radio Demon a hesitant nod.  
"That would be lovely, . . .thank you." You manage to say.

His gloved hand circles over the cup, now full with warm liquid inside, a lavender scent wafting from it.

"Alright guys! Let's clean up." Charlie announces. You move to stand up and help, but she waves you off. "Oh, no! Please, sit and relax. I want you to be as comfortable as any guest here."

"The fuck?" Angel calls from where he holds a stack of plates on his arms. "I'm a guest too, you bitches still make me clean!" 

"Client." Vaggie supplies as everyone passes through the kitchen doors.

"Same shit!" Angel clicks his tongue, voice fading as soon as he ducks inside.

"Alastor! Could you perhaps show her to the living room?" Charlie threads her fingers together, swinging from side to side.

You sip at your tea, surprised to find yourself not poisoned and strewn over the ground, feeling somewhat guilty afterwards. However, doubt still plagued your mind.

You don't know what could possibly make her believe that he wasn't at the very least some way hostile to your presence, but it was obvious that she trusted him enough to not harm you.

But you would have to trust her, the same way she could trust you not to harm them.  
...

A grandfather clock announces twelve with a deep strike, five times total. You only know because it's the only thing you're trying to focus on rather than Alastor's palpable gaze as he walks behind you.

_"Ladies first!" He had dipped his head with a slight bow._

His mannerisms made you curious. He was elusive as he was passive aggressively polite, put together with the class of a man well past the modern age. The late 30's, you assumed. You admit that you can't remember the last time you had seen an instinctive gentleman. You try to remember that this was the same demon that had almost crushed your neck through the wall of the Hotel.

  
"No need to look so petrified, dear! If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have invited you to tea time!" He chuckles.

You bit your lip, deciding to amuse him at least. No need to be impolite. You were quite familiar with the 30's etiquette, as it was a time of great need from those who sought for guidance.

"Thank you for providing, good sir."

Alastor's head snaps up, smile widening.

"With pleasure! Such kind words, it's a rarity to see these days in this rambunctious establishment!" The deer demon pivots swiftly, gesturing to the atmosphere of the room. He turns back to you, intense crimson gaze making his monocle gleam. "A shame that most blood hungry demons down here wouldn't care for such a thing."

You swallow, but refuse to look away, furrowing your brows. He was getting too comfortable now. Maybe you shouldn't have humored him.

"I'm well aware." You reply coolly. He obviously enjoyed your visible discomfort.

"Hm. Frightening, isn't it?" There was a smirk in his voice again. "That the morsels out there do not savor their delicacies anymore. They simply do so for the act of killing." He walks toward you, hands behind his back. The melodic hum he tunes contrasts greatly with the sharp tension just created.

"Will you?" You inquire, fingers squeezing your biceps from your casually crossed arms. Prepared in the case of a repeat of first your meeting.

He doesn't stop his long but rhythmic strides. You stay rooted to your spot, refusing to show signs of weakness, even through the thundering of your heart and your deep inhales and exhales.

Alastor squints, analyzing your rigid form. Searching for your fear.

"Will I what?" 

"Kill me."

His broad shoulders shake, as if laughing.  
"No, no. How crude! No, you see, that's not what I want to do." 

"Then what do you want to do?" You press. "What do you want from me?"

He leans in, so very close to your face. Close enough for you to see golden embers from the deadly fire in his eyes. Eyes that know they could hurt you, if not kill you.

"A deal." He breathes. "Would you shake this poor sinner's hand?"

You jerk back, confused.

"Would you shake for your life?" He smiles sharply, continuing.

  
"A guardian for the guardian angel?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a whiplash, if I do say so myself. For the next chapter, I would like to provide a visual of our angel's outfit. I don't like to explain outfits usually in stories, as I believe it's only important when it pertains to the plot. But, I am a bit fond of my concepts heh. 
> 
> Pendeja= Dumbass, Stupid, Asshole
> 
> So many sweet comments! You guys make me melt, I swear hahaha.


	11. was it obvious, to everybody else?

"I beg your pardon?" You whisper.

Your energy pulses- hot, at the tar like temperature that his magic tries to drown out. It almost feels like it's sucking you in.

The red brooch on his bow tie gleams, of whisping souls dancing in a world of red. It dawns you that this is not his first deal. Your gaze trails up, from the broad shoulders shadowing over your smaller figure to the terrifying sharpness of his jawline.

You shake off all other visual distractions, narrowing your eyes.

"Your manipulation will not work on me." You state, stepping back.

To your surprise, the demon does the same, leaning on his staff as chuckles rumble through his chest. Treating the air around you like a joke. A broken tune follows his movements.

"Manipulation? What a strange lass you are. I'd have thought you would jump at the chance of an amiable favor!"

"You barely know me, _Mr. Radio Demon_." You retaliate, starting to grow irritated at the hypocrisy. He doesn't seem particularly remorseful that you caught him red handedly with the soul brooch, having it displayed proudly on his tie like an honorary pin. "If anything, you shouldn't be surprised. Your black magic consumes your aura."

The man continues to grin through your wariness. "Despite so, chivalry is not dead in New Orleans, Miss Angel!"

"You tried to kill me last night." You say, no, state. 

"A tad bit exaggerative!" He swung his staff sharply over to his other hand, gloved fingers dancing across the staff. His harsh but precise movements make you internally flinch, body almost expecting a blow from the unpredictability of this man. "No, no, dear. Immobilization is quite different from killing, I would know. Wouldn't you as well?"

  
Perplextion rusts the gears in your overheated thinking. Over how to escape this man's jagged gaze-

What?

  
"After all," Alastor stands straight this time, looking down at you with a smirk in his tone. Only this time, your skin feels the flush washing over you. When he quite literally is staring into your eyes, nothing like his offhanded gaze. This time, he's searching for that quaking emotion hiding behind your rigid posture.

You prepare for the worst, wrists folding over the other on your lap. "The picture show has quite a lot to say."

'What are you-"

He points his staff towards the bar's television screen, stepping back to let you pass, unable to read the screen's details from so far off.

.

.

  
.

.

Your breath hitches. _What_?

No. No, you didn't kill anything. You didn't kill anyone.

How?

Were you even capable? You had no power. No permission. You did not control who died. You could never judge that upon anyone.

So many questions aching your head. Shame and guilt burned your skin, because now, someone was dead because of you. Just like the mortal souls you could not save, those caught in the vice like grip of a slithering reptile's malicious beckoning.

You could possibly jeopardize everyone who's helped you. Charlie's reputation, her Hotel, her friends. The Imps.

Because now, all of Hell knew that you were here.

And there was no time to die.  
...

The scientist breathes through his nose harshly, spit lining over the slits on the the ends of his mouth.

He slams the tape (pink, the only damn color left) and cotton on the counter without a care. Hell wasn't privy to robberies in stores, this being the great exception as it was owned by another damn big shot Overlord. This retail store sold the best conditioned items in the city either way, despite the agonizing price of it.

The silver haired demoness behind the register bags the items, handing them over with a half lidded glare. Her pointed purple tail flickers, red eyes narrowing at his impatience.

"Thanks for your purchase at. . .Rosie's Emporium." 

He reads her name tag, pissed at her little attitude and eye roll, looking at him like shit under her shoe.

 _Mayberry_.

He snatches the bag, storing her name in his memory to add to his future list.

' _Little bitch_.'

...

Only a slit of reddened light touches the magenta ground, from the closed curtains of the wall sized windows.

Eclipsing the black pitch of the room.

  
The tall demon growls behind his desk, top hat askew. The phone on his hand threatens to shatter over the pressure.

"I want that **fucking** thing tracked down, from the **fucking _ends of Hell_** and back. I want it _**dragged**_ back here, so that I can cut off it's fucking limbs and wings. Rub some goddamn salt on it and-"

"-are you done?" Vox's electric hiss cuts through the demon's rage, of the pain hidden underneath the hand curling need to absolutely destroy something.

  
The other ends the call, violently throwing the smart phone towards the ground, heaving through barely restrained bloodcurdling fury.

" **Shut up. Just shut _the fuck up_ , Vox. Don't _start_ with your _Goddamn_ shit now**."  
Valentino grits out, whipping off his shades. The plastic cracks under the shaking force. "

The screen head glitches with an annoyed static coursing through his body, large hands slamming on the desk in front of him, rattling the black wood.

"What the **fuck** do you want me to do? Huh? **It won't do shit either way, Val**." 

The brat wasn't coming back. Their friend, their kid sister, wasn't coming the fuck back. So why. Why even keep mentioning so. 

Why make the wound more shallow than it already was.

The cesspool of silence wraps around the cold atmosphere. In the gray darkness of the room. The same kind that will always follow after them in this damned reality they were put in.

Because this is the same pain that will stay with them for the rest of their undead lives either way. There will never be peace in their state of mind. This is what they were created for.

It doesn't matter. Not if this is what they are anyways.

Valentino looks away from the magenta carpet of the flooring, throwing the curtains open to look over the city.

  
"What of Lucifer? I'd have thought the old bastard would have found that thing anyways."

" _Fuck_ Lucifer." Valentino snaps, sliding his shades back on. The left lense is cracked, a kaleidoscope of Hell's false lights blinkering on his eye.

  
"That thing is ours. We'll fucking find it, 

even if we have to **_freeze Hell over._** "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned that I love reading my reader's feedback? My, you all are so creative and insightful, I am having a lot more fun with this plot. Alastor is quite the tease.


	12. i've fallen for a lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: mentions of child abuser

Alastor watches, drinks in the panic settling across the angel's delicate face. A bit of torment never hurt his clients, after all.

It was a radiant sight, truly, and perhaps he might have enjoyed it more, weren't it not for the heavy energy he was dedicating to stop his shadows from dragging him closer to the angel.

Digging the end of his staff into the wood of the floor, he ignores the harsh pulling in his chest, brooch burning through his clothes. 

Unknowingly, the angel's white magic was appeasing the damned spirits, being the only source of true light in a realm inhabiting artificial red sun.

Gritting through the fog in his mind, body trying to drag him over, he had stepped away a good distance to rid himself of the feeling. An alien feeling trying and failing to quell something within.

Disguising it as a way to let her pass through, he observes intently, where she stared at the screen of the TV with distress written over her features.

"Now this doesn't sound good, does it?" He leaned forward, forearm over his staff.

The fair creature comes to her senses, quickly, brows furrowing with a bit of a tremble to her hands. 

She was a pretty thing, he could admit. So much much so, that it was almost laughable for Charlie and the rest of her miscreants to believe that they could hide her without a hitch. A pity. 

"It wasn't me, if that's what you are trying to say."

Bold as well.

Alastor tilts his head, "They certainly don't seem to agree, Miss angel. I trust your friend Blitzo has given you an idea of many of the foul sinner's activities, wouldn't you say so?"

The angel looks at him pointedly, eyes glazing in defense at the mention of the Imp from him. "Selling my soul defeats the purpose, doesn't it?"

Chuckling at her irritance, Alastor casually rests his arms behind his back. His long strides are not fast, but they have him facing the portal before him far sooner.

  
Sooner or later, she'll know that mercy does not exist in the dark cold of a world with no sun.

And life will eventually die faster with only the falsehood blazing, happy light of the moon.

"Miss angel, who needs Heaven when you could do and have everything you've ever wanted?"

  
...

Husk catches your stare as he peered through the empty glass bottle, tossing it to a bin.

"You want?" He offers, picking up a shot.

In your state of shock and processing, you had chosen to take a seat on a nearby barstool in front of the alchohol establishment. Not that you were going to drink, but you hoped he'd perhaps have some water.

At your polite decline, the cat rose a brow.

"What, you scared that Sky Daddy is gonna see you?"

You shake your head truthfully despite the offensive name, as a hint of bitterness peaked through his slurs. Perhaps there was an underlying reason for his approach towards your background.

  
Your Father was no one to dictate or threaten you with the choices you made, only present to guide you just as much as you tried for others. But the thought of intoxication did not sound pleasant to your ears, of loosening your inhibitions and losing control of your mind. It almost sounded daunting, if anything.

"The feeling of it. . .it's not for me."

Husk leans back against the wall of bottled displays, nose twitching with a roll of his eyes.

"It's not for anyone who doesn't feel shitty about themselves already. But I guess you're sane enough if you still want to remind yourself, huh?" 

You pursed your lips in thought, agreeing silently with his words. Mixed and jumbled as they were, the slightly intoxicated demon had a point. Of every soul you failed to guide, tearing at you from the inside, it never numbed the fact that in some way. . .it was because of you. That choosing or finding a way to make you forget that fact would make you a truly more hypocritical person. More dark souled in every aspect.

"Yeah. It always finds the sensitive people first." He grumbles shallowly.

"A hopeless mind searching for peace shouldn't be a sin." The words leave your mouth, exhaustion seeping into your bones as you slightly slouched. With everything falling apart so quickly, you begin to wonder when it would eventually strike you. When it would come.

"Yeah, well, you already know that sometimes even this isn't enough, Kid. Not down here." 

The polished floor of the bar creaks as he reaches for a shot glass, back facing you.

Your eyes trail over the beauty of his wings, of intricate patterns between hearts and spades. Jet black trimming across brilliant red.

Golds and silver were amongst the more common colors you had seen in Heaven, but the unique and colorful array in front of you had you in quiet awe.

"Your wings are beautiful."

The demon springs up, head bumping against the top board of the cabinet. His top hat lops slightly at the fast reaction.

He whips around, an almost shocked and appalled look striking across his face. 

Resisting the urge to chortle, you instead choose to smile shyly, fidgeting with your gloves while becoming interested at a slight snag at the end of the satin fabric.

Huffing and obviously at a loss of what to say, Husk turns back around, taking the empty glass and giving it to you (nearly shoving it in your face).

"I can't tell if this is vodka or water." He mumbles, pushing a glass bottle of clear liquid towards you. You turn your head slightly to analyze it, just as clueless as he was.

"Cloaky," Angel Dust steps out of the kitchen doors, drawing your attention. Fortunately, you were able to taste water at the small taste test the cat had given you. The spider proceeds to sit on the barstool next to yours with a certain grace, motioning behind him. "Someone's on the phone for you." 

Puzzeled, it takes you a minute to come to clarity-

Blitzo.

You almost choke on the water in your throat from the elated excitement bubbling inside your chest, eagerly hopping off your seat.

It's only when you're halfways over to the door that you realize you still have the small shot glass in your gloved grip, almost slipping over the rugs face first to push it into a flabbergasted Angel's hands.

"Thank you!" You gush at the two demons, before making your hurried way again.

Angel takes a glance at the somewhat constipated and scandalized twisted expression on the tom cat. Clearly battling an inner conflict over an opinion on the girl.

The spider snickers behind his hand, uncaring of the glare sent his way.  
...

"Hey, Kid."

A flurry of words leave your mouth at the sound of your friend's voice.

"Oh Blitzo! How are you? How is everyone? Are Millie and the baby okay? Is-"

"Holy Shit, calm the fuck down, Kid!" Blitzo laughs from the other side of the phone, and while your face flushes in shame, your cheeks begin to hurt from smiling so much at the familiarity of your Imp friend.

"Everyone's good. 'Xcept Moxxie. That one's sadly still a bitch." You breathe out a laugh at the indignant yell from the distant background. "How about you, Kid? Angel Dust told me most of the shit that went down. They treating you alright over there?"

  
You don't know how to sum up just exactly how you felt, being in this completely new setting. Charlie and most of her staff were welcoming, though to some extent depending on each member. Charlie was as sweet as you had originally met her, even if she did partake most of her time in staring at you curiously when she thought you weren't looking. Vaggie was still visibly wary of you, but wasn't as hostile as to be rude to you. In fact, stand-offish as she was, she had been respectful so long as you didn't make any quick movements that looked too suspicious.

It wasn't the most comfortable social setting you had ever been in, but it was better than learning about the fact that you had almost been stabbed in your unconscious state by one of Alastor's crew. Granted, Husk didn't know of your situation and acted out of impulse, but your mellow conversation gave you some sort of hope that he would see you in a new light, if not trustworthy. One that didn't include killing all of them in their sleep too. Nifty was often too immersed into her cleaning to really have any verbal contact with you, but she had blinked admirably at the pristine white cleanliness of your attire multiple times.

  
Angel Dust seemed to have a more relaxed air around you, but you could also see him sharply eyeing the top of your head at times, more so when your halo appeared. However, he was kind, prude as he was in his commentary and actions. It was a surprise, truthfully, that out of all of the residents, he was amiable.

"It started off roughly. . . . .but I think I'm okay. Everyone's been hospitable so far. Thank you." You answer truthfully, finding it hard to come up with a more positive answer if you took so long in thinking it over.

"Even the fuckin' stag?" Blitzo questions, and you can almost picture his look of disbelief and irritation.

"...He," you begin, inhaling sharply. "He was different, but. . ."

"But?" The imp pressed on.

"He tried making a deal. With me."

Blitzo shares an uncharacteristic bout of silence, contemplating through the other line.

"Fuck,. . .fuck that fucking piece of SHIT!" The imp groans, annoyed, and a grinding sound of teeth clenching makes you cringe. He breathes harshly through his nose. "Kid, please tell me you didn't believe or accept any of his bullshit-"

"No! No, I didn't." You wind the phone's cord around your finger anxiously, understanding his sudden reaction. "I just. . .I don't know if it's too late for me now either way. My wings-"

"Fuck no, don't go giving me that pity party, Kid. We're gonna find you a fucking way back." Blitzo scolds, and your shoulders hang in shame over your moment of weakness. Of thinning hope. "The staff and I took a mission last night from a customer, and we figured that maybe Earth's shitty resources might be of some use while we were there. We stole one of the Holy Books at this one ancient church after we fuckin blew the brains out of this dude."

Terror strikes through you, and a trickle of anger sprinkles in there too. The phone in your hand threatens to crack. "WHAT?! Blitzo-"

"Relax, Kid. What, you wanted a child abuser to keep doing what he was doing? Can name all 6 and more types of his, too."

Your limbs freeze, encased in a layer of invisible ice, skin shuddering at the disgust and monstrous acts of true evil that a person could have, of nauseating and all too cruel and malicious intent flowing through a person's veins, someone so terrible and awful enough to do such a thing to an innocent and small soul.

The feeling strikes you, a bullet to the chest. A dagger to your sight. A piercing edge jabbing into your palms. Feet cemented to the ground, unable to move.

It's frightening. It's foreign. It's new.

Darkness in the pit of your stomach, curling like anger over your insides and bones, reaching your curled fists.

Never had you been so unbothered and satisfied of someone's death.

At your pensive silence, Blitzo clicks his tongue. "We made sure that motherfucker died slowly after chopping his hands off and carving out what he was on his forehead. A nice little stamp for his afterlife. Waited until the life in his eyes faded. And then after that, well, 

you already know." He chuckled.

  
"Okay."

You breathed out, flexing your finger out of the cord and closing your eyes. "I. . .

I'm glad he found his way here then. Thank you."

Thank you for what, you didn't want to say.

The comment has the Imp on the other end of the line laughing louder. You could hear the smirk in his voice. The satisfaction. "Yeah, sure." A cough behind him snaps him out of his dark stupor. "Look Sweetie, don't shake that fucker's hand. Whatever you do, don't show any form of weakness around demons like him. Just. . ."

The imp had trailed off, almost lost in what to say all of a sudden. Or trying to bite back something else.

"Blitzo?" You called out, "what?"

Regaining his serious tone, the Imp sighs. "Don't shake the fucking deer's hand. Don't, unless your life is in danger. I know it sounds like bullshit, Kid. 

But I'd rather you be in Hell than not be in either of the two of the realms at all."  
...

"Alright!" Charlie clicks her pen and proceeds to plop down in front of you. "Let's do this!"

The tea cup cradled in your palms shakes softly. 

Immersed in staring down at the honey gold liquid, a distant memory swims at the sight of your reflection.

_'Don't shake his hand, Kid. Not unless you want to stay down here.'_

  
_'Miss angel, who needs Heaven when you could do and have everything you've ever wanted?'_

_'What, you wanted a child abuser to keep doing what he was doing? Can name all 6 and more types of his, too.'_

_'I'm glad he found his way here then. Thank you.'_

_'Thank you for what, you didn't want to say.'_

The tag falls off your teabag.


	13. you were never on my side

"A psychologist?" Angel Dust forms the word around his mouth quizzically. 

Most, if not everyone, in the room are aggressively confused upon your suggestion. 

"I think it would be a wonderful idea, if any of the patients would want to try it!" Charlie swings her fist up, but you can see her reluctance shine through. 

"I was thinking, perhaps more for all of you. . ." You ease into a more specific statement. "Addiction to a particular sin, physiologically, is one thing. But the mind must need healing and a chance for peace." 

"What does that have to do with us, exactly?" Vaggie rose a brow inquisitively. 

"It's gonna take one to know one." Angel Dust rolls his eyes, proceeding to point at Vaggie and the Princess. "You two bitches need to learn about psychology. Which I totally agree with. Your little group circle shit for the customers is Hell on it's own. Can't even stay awake through half of it. Don't even get me started on the 'be a better person' monologue."

  
Vaggie grinds her molars together, exhaling heavily as she diverts her attention back to you. 

"Look, the idea has totally crossed us, but in case you haven't noticed," She gestures around, hands waving in a complete circle. "Any demon who even knows about that kind of stuff would have to be down here, too. Aside from the fact if they somehow even want to understand our cause. It's like. . ." 

"Oh! Oh!" Nifty waves her hand up eccentrically, in a similar fashion of wanting to be called up in a classroom. Words shoot out of her mouth the minute everyone's attention rests on her, "Kinda like trusting a dermatologist with bad skin! This one time here at the plaza center, my cousin Mina bought a product that would help her skin, and then this demon was selling stuff like that but he had his whole body covered up in a hood and I was like, " _don't do it, Mina_!" But she was like " _You already lived, once_!" And so she bought it and then she put it all over her lower body, AND WHAT DO YOU KNOW! the next day she told me " _ **Nifty! I got the worst fucking rash ever, ON MY A-** _ " 

" _OKAY_ , thanks for that, Nifty. I think that cleared up a few things." Charlie clasps her hands together, smiling down awkwardly at the jittery little cyclops demon. Nifty blinks back at her innocently, all giggles and sunshine with a happy nod. 

You hum softly, biting the inside of your cheek in thought. "I can see your point. But Angel Dust is right." 

"What?!" Vaggie exclaims confusedly, squinting at you. The spider glares at her smugly, even if he didn't want to show his surprise as well.

"What do you mean?" Charlie tilts her head, deaf to the ensuing argument of the two in the backround. 

"You can not inspire people by being perfect Charlie. Much less motivate them to talk or reflect." You reply with a patient smile. "Becoming mentally stronger in knowing how to respond to certain patterns of behavior with your patients may help as well. The human mind is a rubrix. You can't look at it in only one way." 

"Do you really think so?" Charlie gives you an earnest expression. You sympathize for her, someone who has yet to know how many more disappointments will cross her way with every new hope. And maybe you're just feeding into it, too, but you know that even by a miracle stretch, it can be possible. Even if it's not easy. "I mean, I know people here have done things that are unforgivable. But if there's still hope for others who weren't too far gone. . ." She trails off. 

You think. So much thinking down here, it seems. Reflecting in Hell of all places. How fitting.

  
"We can only try." You answer honestly. "If you don't try, you can only ever know someone from what they choose to show you."

  
She hangs on to your every word, nodding eagerly. "Okay! Let's try it!"

A shadow in the far corner blinks back at the scene, ears open, glowing eyes blinking back.  
... 

_"Go on, little one." You cooed down at the lost child. Agatha, was her name. Despite her not being able to hear nor see you, you coerced her frightened thoughts by lighting a path in front of her with your magic, through the crowd of people mixed together in the chaotically loud festival. The little girl steps forward, clutching a toy she had won in the game stalls before she had lost sight of her parents._

_Following your guide, she moves forward, dodging a group of adults being particularly rowdy with their excitement over the festivities._

_Agatha gasps, little heart beating wildly at the sight of her parents, also calling out her name in a frantic panic for her._

_"Mami! Papi!"_

_Her mother is the first to see her, nearly sobbing tears of joy of finding her youngest child. She tucks her nose into the child's curly hair._

_A bang cracks across the night sky, an explosion of colors flaring in the darkness._

_The Day of the Dead was one of your favorite human holidays. Meaningful and wholesome, where you could feel the pure energy of love and thrumming divinity as familial spirits entered the human realm to spend time close with their relatives._

_Beautiful people of all shapes and sizes pass by, sugar skulls painted on their faces in a kaleidoscope of patterns. Colorful skirts and pleated braids, ribbons crossing in their hair. Dark suits and large elegant hats._

_The sheep cherub next to you silently shrieks at a blasting cannon nearby, hiding behind you under your hair. Flowers rain down, soft and fluttering in their landing. Like snowfall, light and twirling._

_"Doesn't it look amazing, Ian?" You had whispered in awe. The streaming orange of marigold petals continued to fly over the festival. Pieces flutter through your spirited forms._

_"Y-yeah. Can we go home, now?" He muttered._

_You snicker, turning to glance at him. He was a young little thing, only about 5 centuries old (the equivalent of 14 years old in human age). No one in heaven would admit it, all disguised under the falsehood picture of pure and all-loving, but he had always been a bit of a black sheep in the cherub community. In a literal and metaphorical sense. A bit of a recluse and often shying away from affectionate touches out of discomfort. His black and gray palette also made him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the more pastel colors of his friends._

_It had taken him some time to warm up to you, but you hadn't minded. He was worth it, and you could see in his eyes that he had felt the same way, trailing behind you even with his usual silent or moody atmosphere._

_You were like siblings._

_"You're not scared, are you, Ian?"_

_The little cherub frowns softly, shaking his head. "N-No! I just don't like the loud noises!"_

_Smiling gently, you run a hand over the soft wool on his head. The sheep irritatedly groans, pushing your hand away with a huff._

_"Alright." You look over at the decorated graveyard, families busy in prayer with closed eyes. "Do you want to help wake up the sugar skulls before we go?"_

_Ian nods his head with a small smile, tough facade melting, anxiety dimming from being asked to help out. Being relatively young for a cherub, he hadn't quite grasped a good control over his powers. Cherubs required a sufficient amount of stability over their abilities in order to bring objects to life, needing total and absolute strength to give life to a complex form, such as humans. For now, he would be happy with handling the smaller figures._

_Stepping aside, you let the cherub flutter above the tombstones, pecking painted sugar skulls resting among the offerings left behind by loved ones. The breath of life shakes the skulls, light emanating through the eye holes._

_The skulls begin to shake, jumping up until their tiny body's pop out from underneath their heads. Dizzily, they look up at the looming cherub, blinking back at him with mild curiosity._

_Ian waves, albeit a bit awkwardly._

_The sugar skull glances at their own hand confusedly, mirroring the wave._

  
_Turning, they immediately set to work with their other comrades. Helping to relight the smoked out candles of praying families and collecting food offerings, where they would be sent spiritually to the afterlife while the dead visit their loved ones._

_As the night grows on, you catch Ian in mid-yawn, a smirk playing on your lips as you reached up to ruffle at his shaggy black hair again._

_Too tired to complain and be apathetic about it, he let you be, leaning into your hold._

_"Let's go home, Ian."_

_That had been a good two months ago. Heaven had always ran on a more speedier timescale, as it made it easier to watch over humans without progressive overload. Ian found that it made cherub training feel a lot more stretched out than it needed to be. The last time he had visited had been about a week ago._

_And now, you're nowhere to be seen in your section of the heavens._

_Ian mulls over the concerning thought of you being in trouble, cornflower blue eyes shifting towards the All Watching Pool, swirling like ocean waves in front of him. If only it also worked on checking up on Guardian Angel's as it did with wierd humans._

_You were rarely gone from your station, hidden at the highest and more secluded part of the clouds as one of the more significant pure bloods among the angels._

_Should he tell someone?_

_He furrows his brows, shaking his head._

_'Don't be stupid, Ian.' He berates himself. 'She's probably down on Earth._

_She'll be back later._

  
_She always comes back.'_

...

  
The hotel's garden leaves much room to be desired. You're not exactly outside, per se, but the view from the kitchen windows gave it enough justice. A bag of soil, or you assume the brown clumps in a bag are soil, rests on the plainly cut land. A white patio table and chairs stand in the middle of the otherwise graciously spacious backyard. Walkways crossed here and there, leading towards a gazebo in between the dead trees. 

It wasn't trashed or particularly ugly by any means. Just a bit. . .incomplete. Haunting in a way. 

Vaggie traces your silent focus on the window, rolling her eye at the knocked over sack of dirt over the grass. 

"It looked worse before, just dry cracked land. Charlie hired a demon for the grass after Alastor built the gazebo. The flowers are way beyond our budget though, since they're pretty hard to grow. Had to order seeds that haven't even been sent in yet. After that, we sort of just gave up."

  
You back track at her earlier sentence, raising a brow. "Alastor built it?" 

Vaggie crosses her arms and shrugs, frosty hair falling over her shoulders. Obviously still complexed on her idea over the radio demon. "He's an asshole when you get to know him unfortunately. But I can't deny that he's helped out more times than I can count." 

You contemplate her vague description. 

"Do you trust him?" 

She looks up, face a bit startled from the question. 

"I don't know anymore. I mean," she mulled over her answer. "When he first came, I was so convinced that he would do everything in his power to demolish this whole plan. And then he just. . .started helping? Not that he didn't say shit later on about how stupid this whole thing was, anyways. At first, I thought he had a thing for Charlie." Her eyes slit dangerously, bow flaring up. She calmed after taking a shallow breath. "But it was like. . . he had to help us." 

You lean forward. "What do you mean?" 

Vaggie turns and narrows her eye, searching around the kitchen. 

Only the sound of the electric humming from the lights accompanied the dead space.

  
"I think Lucifer may have told Alastor to watch over Charlie."

  
Your breathing stilled, tongue numb.

  
"It's just a theory. But I can't see any other reason as to why he's still here. Not like I can say anything. Charlie trusts him completely." Vaggie continues, looking down at the polished floors of the kitchen. Clean enough to see your reflection. "Lucifer's angelic powers are enough to completely overpower Alastor if needed. At least, that's the way it should go. 

If that's the case, we can only hope that he won't go telling Lucifer." 

Nodding mindlessly, you try to relax your shoulders to rid the tension from your wings. Alastor could very well hurt you, but could not kill you. At least, you kept saying so to yourself. 

So, would Lucifer? 

You shake off the sting piercing at the edge of your heart, distracting yourself by looking at an anxious Vaggie. 

Her blatant support over Charlie's decision to trust Alastor, even if she didn't feel the same about the demon, was lovely. 

"I think it's very sweet that you continue to help Charlie and push aside your wariness," you grin slightly at the flush overtaking her gray features. "but remember that your feelings are valid as well, Vaggie. If you still feel apprehensive or suffocated around a certain atmosphere, I think your partner would appreciate knowing so she could help ease the tension, without a doubt." 

Her face softens, and gone were the strenuous angry lines marring her face as her brows were finally resting. She was a very responsible young woman, head strong and dependent. You were happy Charlie was with someone like her.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you." She bumps her elbow against a teapot, pointing at it. "Tea?" 

You chuckle with shake of your head. "Not for a while." 

The two of you share a small laugh, when the doors to the kitchen bust open, a certain demon princess lugging a thick phone book in front of her. 

"Let's get to calling some lucky psychologists!" 

Angel Dust peaks in, Hellphone over his ear. He nods, muttering positively in response to the other end. 

Charlie gasps. 

" _Didtheysayyes_?"  
She mouths lowly, eyes sparkling while throwing the book over the counter to clap her hands together in anticipation. 

Angel Dust holds up a gloved finger in front of her to calm her. 

"Alright! Sounds good! Bye." The spider ends the phone call with a smile, responding to the attention and all eyes on him.

"So the first guy just told me to go fuck myself."


	14. fool me once

_"Blitzo. . .I found one. Is it too late for me now?"_  
  
  
  
 _"Fuck. Shit. Kid, I don't know, okay? But we'll work around it."_  
  
  
  
  
 _"Ok." Her voice, though soft and understanding, dampened with the sound of loss as well. Like an ugly, dark acceptance._  
  
  
  
  
He swears under his breath, blinking rapidly to rid himself of the exhaustion of personal emotion well up behind them. The kid was already losing hope. And Fuck. This fucking book wasn't getting them anywhere.   
  
Taking a break, he leans back on his chair.   
  
"Damn Millie. You've put on the extra pounds." Blitzo comments casually when he glanced at the smaller imp's rounded stomach.   
  
"You're in a good mood today, Boss!" She teases back, ever the polite southern belle. Perhaps that's why he's particularly fond of the female imp, as she's not prone to taking things up the ass like-   
  
"How DARE you insult my Millie like that! She's..."   
  
Speak of the devil. 'Pfft, yeah, devil. He fuckin' wishes. Loser.' Blitzo snickers in his head, cancelling out Moxxie's recurring snapping rebounds. As much as he tried not to make fun of his employee (not really) as often as he did, Blizo really couldn't help it. The guy just made it so _easy_.   
  
A sliver of a smile mixes into his smirk as he watches their weird ass dynamic, Moxxie nearly suffocating Millie with endless questionnaire over her condition. The latter only placated her husband's concern for their child with a gentle hand running across his forhead.   
  
Pregnancy was a fast stage for Imps. Only took about two months. Since the Imps were already small enough on their own mature ages, their belly bumps were not as largely pronounced as regular human pregnancies. If anything, it only looked like they were going through a rough stage of bloating, above anything else.   
  
Moxxie had been overrun with worry over letting Millie come along their missions as it was during her pregnancy, and while Blitzo had frozen her position from field work for quite some time, the following missions weren't as rough as the Mayberry Case. That had been a damn nightmare. Luckily, most humans fucking sucked at fighting for their lives as common sense left their brains.   
  
Humans.   
  
A idea begins to spark in his muddled thoughts.   
  
The shrill ringing (or barking) of the office phone on Loona's unoccupied desk from the other side of the room kills off the lightbulb on his head.   
  
"Damn it!" He hisses, reaching over for the Moxxie bobblehead in front of him. He chucks it at the bone themed object, effectively shutting it up.   
  
He sighs heavily and continues to run his vision over the pages of the book they had acquired recently. To no avail, nothing helpful had glossed over their situation.  
  
  
"It's just a bunch of shit for humans." He slams the book shut with a groan, smacking his head across the cover.   
  
Loona looks up at her Hell phone from where she resides on the couch.   
  
"Do you think Stolas would-"   
  
**"Don't go there."** Blitzo narrows his eyes, holding it down.   
  
The Overlord, overbearing as he was, could actually be of some help, as long as no context was included.   
  
But no.  
  
  
  
He was getting too close.  
  
  
They were getting too close.  
  
  
  
  
"I don't think the jackass will even have a cure for black feathers anyways." Blitzo grits out, stuffing away the tightness in his chest.  
  
  
Moxxie almost swallows his spit like the idiot he is, still on with his tirade.   
  
"Hon, did you bring your inhaler?" Millie soothes, patting her husband's heaving chest.   
  
The imp in question sends her an almost tiring glare, not at all welcoming of her unconscious act of diminishing his attempts at intimidation towards their obnoxious boss.   
  
"Yes, Honey. . ." He sighs out.  
  
  
Blitzo thinks to himself.   
  
  
  
  
Judgement and Humans.  
  
  
  
  
He flips the book open again.   
  
...   
  
Clouds, as delicate as they seem weaving across the sky, have always been heavy with shadows.   
  
Like fresh mist cooling against your skin, you push away at fluffed mounds.   
  
Most angels often grew star struck at your distinctive ability, clouds tangible to you instead of sinking through. You had found it to be a rather dull talent, boring amongst those of your close brother's. Michael's golden strength and protective air, Gabriel's incredible speed and all-soothing voice.   
  
Who could have thought that their youngest sibling was any less?  
  
  
They visited as often as they could to assure you of your value.   
  
'Little Sister, you have star light in your soul. Of all of us, you hold the most complexity in your heart.' Gabriel pacified, playfully swinging you around in his arms in your smaller years, his curly brown hair a relaxing flower field of smells.   
  
Michael, the calm and composed protector, sitting with you and listening to your stories about the souls under your care, offering his advice. The safe haven of his strong hug when he would have to leave for his duties until he would be able to visit again.   
  
Of which, could take months. Years. A century.   
  
You didn't mind your own company. In all actuality, you preferred it more when you were fulfilling your own duties.   
  
But you hated the static silence.   
  
It all comes back to him.   
  
Lucifer.   
  
Charming and passionate Lucifer.   
  
Your first steps into Heaven were anything but graceful. Like a shaken, barely birthed doe. Shy under the curious and excited stares of the court as they welcomed God's direct youngest, third to Michael and Gabriel.   
  
You meet him, a distant time later, when you're left alone to your surroundings. Face accidentally pressed against the plane his chest upon your stumblings. The gold lapels and trimmings of his long coat felt cool against the fire in your cheeks, body the closest to a man you had ever been.   
  
You had pushed away first, scrambling a bit until you pressed back against the clouds, playing with the tufts under his warm and amused gaze.   
  
One of the most beautiful beings you had ever come across.   
  
One whom said he was enchanted by you at first glance.   
  
Your soul being so light and yet strong enough to sift through the trimmings of the heavens. He praised it, while praising his praises. That was what drew you to him. The humor in his words and actions spoken with passion.   
  
The depth of his personality going far beyond the dulcet perfection you were used to in Heaven. Instead, bold and sly for all he was worth, charm and wit creating a wild character.   
  
He would help you to better control your wings, visiting over your progress and your duties. His gloved hands over yours, arm light against your shoulders. The smell of his wood-spiced scent.  
  
  
  
No one was there more than Lucifer.   
  
It all comes back to him.   
  
And how scandalous it was. To almost feel the lids of your eyes close heavily at his touch, as he passed them across the small of your back to guide you across the sky. Lighting a flare over your skin.   
  
It doesn't take long until then.   
  
Divine in loving you and proclaiming so with no shame. Kissing you with an undeniable softness for the first time as you would both roll across the heavens in surprise attacks, only basking in the joy and air of being together.   
  
Where recurringly, a sun dawn bursts in your heart, love for him so immense that it made you hug the clouds in secret sometimes.   
  
Lux, your wise red haired friend, consulted you over such matters, waving off your worries with her white-gold ringed fingers, seven of them on each hand. A strange phenomenon you never asked about.   
  
Both a mentor and sister figure to you. Teaching you everything you now knew.   
  
As the head of the Guardian Unit, she was a close friend of Lucifer. By far one of the longest, as she wasn't all too surprised over your stories of him.   
  
But even so, she advised the one phrase you could never understand.   
  
That you had to be careful.   
  
"He's an angel. But a man amongst all. Love is complicated when there are no limits. Much like there are none for us."   
  
Lucifer. Strong and warm Lucifer, with sun-gold eyes shining down at you.   
  
Lucifer. Unpredictable.   
  
Lucifer, while so poised and passionate, but held himself with a reserved posture. Defensive.   
  
And you saw it, one day. Or night. As he slips past the thickness of the clouds, a flash of silver leaving the opposite way.   
  
"Lucifer, what were-"   
  
"My Light, what are you doing so far from your area? I would have thought your duties would keep you busy." He asks, almost hurried as he pushes you forward, away from the slightly grayed cloud.   
  
"Lucifer, is something wr-"   
  
He's nowhere, all of a sudden.   
  
"Lucifer?"   
  
"Lucifer?!"   
  
Fear runs through you.   
  
"Lucifer, please, where are you?"   
  
...   
  
You wake.  
  
  
And yet, it feels like your heart is still pulled under the weight of your dreams.  
  
  
Will it ever stop?   
  
Is reflection the torture that this place will mirror, in the form of shadows behind your memories?   
  
_Pat. Pat. Pat._   
  
Sitting up, your eyes travel at the sliver of light dancing under your room door, the pattering sounds coming to a stop in front of it.   
  
You call out.   
  
"Charlie?"  
  
  
". . ."   
  
Mildly disoriented from your brief waking stage, you dip your halo over your body to change and swiftly open the door.  
  
  
  
There's no one.  
  
  
Only the slight smell of smoke that accompanied Hell, dimmed out with the help of air filters.  
  
  
  
 _Pat. Pat. Pat._  
  
  
  
A sharpened, hunched over shadow lights against the hallway.  
  
  
  
You hold in your breath, nausea in your stomach, and step out, digging your heels against the fire-red carpet of the floor.  
  
  
The hallway grows cold, or perhaps it's the blood behind your skin buzzing in frightening anticipation for what may come, as the spiked shadow looms over the area. The gold kaleidoscope of your shield spins about in front of you, pulsing against your hardened fists.   
  
Closer.   
  
_Pat. Pat._   
  
Closer.  
  
  
  
  
Clo-  
  
  
Something pink. Sharp. Hulking.  
  
  
Something-  
  
  
You blink, shield dissipating in sparkling particles. Your hands fall limply to your sides.  
  
  
  
What?  
  
  
  
Wide black eyes stare back, head cocking to the side.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A pig.  
  
  
  
  
All animals went to heaven. It was a just rule.  
  
  
  
  
  
An actual pig? Here?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The little piglet blinks back curiously, trotting across the floors in an interested venture. Nothing like the exaggeration of the stretched out shadow from before.   
  
It sniffs at the tip of your ankle boots, small wet nose dotting the white leather.   
  
You look around, seeing and hearing no signs of owner or. . .cook? Chef? Genuinely, you hoped no one would actually think of eating the innocent creature, especially one so young.   
  
After a few moments of hesitation, you bend down to scoop the piglet up, mindful of the unique spikes along it's back.  
  
  
  
Spikes. Huh.  
  
  
Nonetheless, it was. . .adorable.  
  
  
"Now, what could you possibly have done, little. . .?" You look down. ". . .boy. You're a very cute pig."   
  
The piglet shows no signs of distress over your hold, only glancing at the view from below over your arm.  
  
  
"Let's see if Charlie or anyone is awake yet, no?" You asked. It looked to be quite early still, but at the moment, all you really needed was some fresh air. Having a small animal to hold was an added bonus.  
...   
  
No one liked to be awake here at-   
  
You squint at the glowing numbers of the kitchen's oven clock.   
  
6:06 a.m.   
  
Perhaps everyone was mildly exhausted, mostly mentally, from trying to find a psychologist that wasn't too far off the rail. Or one that was actually willing to help.   
  
In truth, it wasn't that you needed sleep. However, it did help clear your head of things from time to time. Mostly because of how bad you felt for wasting everyone's time, even if Charlie assured you that it was to be expected, as she was used to the initial rejection.   
  
You try your best to be quiet by gently turning the doorknob. You step out and close it immediately.   
  
The chill of incoming dawn fully wakes you up. A pleasant, silent and soothing air replacing the usual chaotic sounds of the city from miles away. Different from Imp City, surprisingly.   
  
Deciding that a stroll through the stone pathways would clear your mind, you begin your walk, mindlessly following the path while continuing your analysis of the creature in your arms.   
  
A gold charm dangles from the collar that you had barely noticed, hanging around its pudgy neck. Squinting, you read the name engraved across the plate.   
  
". . .Fat Nuggets. . .Oh!" You glance back at the pig, laughing at the strangeness of the name and the fact that he was now nibbling at your strands of hair.   
  
"You must be hungry, little Fat Nuggets."   
  
**"Splendid! He's not the only one!"**   
  
Your skin nearly jumps from the radio voice emerging inside the gazebo, of which you were now in front of after following the stone pathway.   
  
The pig lets out a squeal in your arms, squirming at the sudden static noise of Alastor's voice. Your heart hammers at the startle, slightly upset with leaving yourself so vulnerable now and being distracted. You sweep a hand softly over the little pig's back in an attempt to soothe it.   
  
"Good Day, Miss Angel!"   
  
He sits on an elegant chair, accompanied by a small table of tea and breakfast portions. It goes well with the spindle style of the gazebo, admittedly, the silence now drowned out with the soft tones of classic jazz from his microphone staff.   
  
"Mr. Radio Demon, hello. I'm sorry to interrupt." You reply, remembering to tread carefully with his mannerisms. "I believe you know who. . . Fat Nuggets belongs to?" You ask without meeting the demon's scarlet eyes, satin gloves running along the peach fuzz of the tense animal. The poor thing was shaking.   
  
He felt it too.   
  
The apprehension sweeping over one's body, from the very air this man radiated with.   
  
The demon bares no confusion on his face at the sight of the piglet in your arms, a near sly quirk of his lips, hinting at the knowledge you were asking for.   
  
"Your assumption is correct!"   
  
Silence afterwards, save for the music drolling on behind him.   
  
"Who?" You prod further on, raising a brow. For a radio host, he was. . .vague. It only roused your weariness around him by tenfold.   
  
He gestures towards the collar with a wave of his hand. Realizing that he was silently asking you to flip the name plate, you read the carved in description out loud, skipping past the phone number.   
  
" _Hello, my name is Fat Nuggets. Please return me to Angel Dust, and he might suck your dic-_ " your lips slam shut quickly, a fiery flush of embarrassment washing over your skin.   
  
Never in your existence had you used or slipped out any sort of vulgarity.   
  
It made you feel. . .dirty. Shameful. As if you had a stain on your hands.   
  
You steal a glance at Alastor.   
  
The demon dons an amused smile behind the lid of his tea cup, at how easily you had been ensnared into the trap for his own entertainment.   
  
With a heavy sip, he glances back at your embarrassed stare, blood crimson boring into your continuing fall from grace.   
  
  
"Care to join me for breakfast, Miss Angel?"   
  
You would have rejected the offer completely.   
  
You should've.   
  
You didn't.   
  
Simply nodding (still too burning red and mindless to speak or think), you take the seat from across.   
  
He gestures at the table, gracefully curling his hand to the right of your plate until a tea cup matching his own appears behind it.   
  
You grab the nearest thing, a piece of toast, if only to nibble at it.   
  
"Are you enjoying your stay here so far? Reviews are very much helpful to better this establishment!" He keeps conversation, something that you were slightly grateful for. Especially when avoiding the topic of The Deal. "I do offer my apologies at our slow staff service this morning, however. The discipline is still a. . . work in progress!"   
  
"No," you shake your head, but catch yourself in the middle of creating a misunderstanding. " _NO_! I mean- Yes, you've all been, very hospitable. Thank you."   
  
"Well then, that's marvelous news! You're very welcome!" Alastor chuckles, broad shoulders shaking animatedly. Leaning back, his tall form shadows the rising crimson sun, light spilling to trace the outline of his tall posture.   
  
  
You found the way he moved to be intriguing, if not lively. His body language was both intensely smooth yet impassioned, as if reenacting a play.  
But it's the glass of his monocle hitting the burning red glare of the sun that lets you know that he was looking at you, directing all attention to your pensive and nonplussed form. It makes your insides twist, in a way, not at all used to the opposite sex speaking to you so casually yet so. . .gentleman-like?   
  
Well, one that wasn't related to you. Yet, at the same time, it couldn't even be excusable to reason like that. You weren't as hesitant to speak with Angel Dust, nor Blitzo or Moxxie. Or some of the other angels in Heaven.   
  
It made you anxious. That dark and pulling stare.   
  
Beyond comprehension. As if it were hard to breathe.   
  
Your cup lands, gently, against the porcelain of the saucer, but it's enough to snap you out of your trance. You didn't even know that you had reflexively taken a sip whilst you were digesting your overwhelming thought process.   
  
"How is the tea?" He asks, humming along to the staff's radio playing a jazzed French number.   
  
"Good." You go straight to the point, but wince at your curtness. "I. . .I don't really go hungry though." You add, nodding down at the half eaten toast on your plate.   
  
"Oh?" He leans forward, and you swallow softly. "That's rather a shame! My, I can only imagine what wonderful things you've missed out on, dear! Surely you haven't the least bit of cravings, no? The demons here are-"   
  
You fist your hands under the table, mind darting for a way to distract him from even creating a path towards the dreading topic you had foolishly started.   
  
Think. Think. Think.   
  
"Fat Nuggets!" You exclaim. Out of the blue and completely cutting off the radio demon.   
  
Alastor, so disguisingly engrossed in the façade of interest, blinks curiously.   
  
"Pardon?" He chuckles, and there's a tightness to it, as if he were irritated at the diversion.   
  
"He was hungry. I'm afraid I didn't find what he was looking for." You point at the piglet, curled on the stairs of the gazebo in a nap.   
  
"Oh! Why didn't you say so?" He remarks, and you find yourself wondering if you'll regret this new impending topic now. Picking up a stray piece of ham, he tosses it the pigs way.   
  
Against all odds (and to your horror), Fat Nuggets springs up, attacking the ham like a fish depraved of water. There's even a little canine in the baby snout.   
  
Unfazed, the overlord leans his head on his chin, turning to gauge your reaction. Your gazes meet again, from where the angled tips of his hair spill over the sharpness of his jawline, and his large, slender hand moves from his face to his brooch.   
  
"A whole new meaning to 'you are what you eat, isn't it, Miss Angel?' " He grins. Closed mouth this time.   
  
You press your back against the seat.   
  
"Yes. I suppose. . ."   
  
But his face.  
His face, while sharp, dark-lit and ablaze so intensely. . .stares down at the pig with a gentle amusement.   
  
Relaxed, like he'll rest against this moment of peace.   
  
They travel over to you, deep thought behind ruby reds.   
  
It's shortlived.   
  
He sits up so suddenly, that your mind panics, hands flinching.   
  
"Do excuse me, Miss Angel, but I must cut our time short due to an important meeting." He swings his staff, pressing down to stand. With both a smirk and a smile. "Good Day!"   
  
The worst combination, hiding behind unpredictable intent.   
  
The word 'meeting' is said with such implication, that you feel your heart stop, remembering your conversation with Vaggie from yesterday.   
  
You wait for him to activate his portal, if only to see where exactly he was going on the other side.   
  
Only this time, he doesn't step through a portal. Instead, he strolls out of the Gazebo, humming along to the tune following him in the air.   
  
Your sigh shakily.   
  
"Oink." You look down, meeting a curious Fat Nuggets looking up at you.   
  
A wobbly smile makes it's way to your lips. At the realization that the two of you shared the one thing in common, of the tense apprehension looming over you, coming from the same man whom looks at you with a dark ravenousness behind his eyes.   
  
'You and me both.' You think, as the pig licks at your gloved fingers in comfort.   
  
...   
  
"Lux! Lux!"   
  
The red head turns around, a curious smile curling on her lips at the sight of the dark haired cherub's uncharacteristic excitement.   
  
"Ian, why, I've never seen you so happy to see m-"   
  
"She's gone!"   
  
Bewildered over the little cherub's distress, she asks for clarification when your name is mentioned repeatedly.   
  
"Ian, dear, what-"   
  
"I, I don't know, ok?" Ian growls frutratedly, hands clenching and unclenching. "It's been three days now Miss Lux, and she hasn't come back."   
  
...  
  
  
"You've sure seemed quiet about all of this, Al." Valentino slinks past. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're enjoying it."   
  
Alastor locks his gaze on the demon from his peripheral vision, much too unbothered to fully face the pathetic state of the other that the tacky heart-rimmed shades failed to conceal.   
  
He restrains the trickle of a smirk threatening to curl on his mouth, instead offering a close lipped grin.   
  
"Talking isn't very polite during a funeral, now is it?" He remarks out loud in thought, tapping the speaker of his staff with dull interest.   
  
A hissing glitch of electric noise burns against available ear drums from the front of the room.   
  
The deer demon clicks his tongue in distaste as he faces forward again, tilting his head to analyze the silently seething Block Head.  
  
  
Vox.  
  
  
It's a mildly pleasant feeling, to see the muted grief eating away inside the Overlord's pixlated eyes, no matter the fact of whether he had a digital face or not. The fury marring the bastard arrogance and composure of the electrical Overlord.   
  
How overwhelming satisfying it was, to witness a downfall from so high up.   
  
"Modern technology is doomed to fail early, as they say. A pity!" He decides to claw in deeper, hammering the nail further into the open wound.   
  
And if this kept going,   
  
Hook. Line. Sinker.  
  
  
"You better watch yourself, _Mortal Soul_." Vox drawls, despite the seething electrical cuts around. Like hissing snakes. "Too bad we know it wasn't your kill. A jackass like you would only boast about it. You'd love that, huh?" He hisses.   
  
Alastor replies with a silent smile and a hum, waving his hand at the other nonchalantly.  
  
  
"Grief. What a fickle thing!" He shakes his head, stalking past the two.  
  
  
Valentino tenses as the air begins to change, a distant sweetness at the edge of his nostrils.  
  
  
  
"Say Alastor, you wouldn't have happened to come across something. . . _strange_ , would you?" He asks without turning to look at the other.  
  
  
  
  
Vox snaps his head down at the Moth demon.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Hmm. . ." Alastor stops. "No! Afraid not!"  
  
  
  
  
  
Promptly, the Overlord exits his way out of the conference hall, just as the high council announces the final approval of the angel-hunt towards the crowd of powerful spectators.  
  
  
  
  
 _ **"Let the hunt begin!"**_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Valentino passes the smell off as a trick of the mind.   
  
'Asshole' he grits through.


End file.
